


Not The End Of Your Story

by Fangirlishness



Category: The Librarians (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Episode: s02e10 And the Final Curtain, Evlynn with added Moriarty, Flynn overthinks things a lot, Gratuitous use of Shakespeare sonnets, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-08-29 09:45:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 52,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8484622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlishness/pseuds/Fangirlishness
Summary: Flynn has only just made up with Eve when he discovers something fascinating about Moriarty.Is it magic? Is it attraction? Can Flynn resist? What will Eve think? He really shouldn't be wasting time on questions like that and concentrate on defeating Prospero and getting back to the future instead. But since when has Flynn's brain ever done the straightforward thing?





	1. Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?

**Author's Note:**

> This is by far my longest story to date. Beta by [Neery](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Neery) and [Greyathena](http://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena). All remaining mistakes are mine.

_‘Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?’_

 

\--- 

“Every time.”

Flynn had no trouble fending off Moriarty’s childish jabs, none at all. 

“Every time.” 

Moriarty was smart, granted, but Flynn was anticipating every move: a left feint here, a stronger push there. He countered every one. Every time. He was just getting warmed up, dancing through the grass, actually starting to have something like fun. There was no danger to it. They wouldn’t have freed Moriarty from the stocks if he meant them harm. Eve had convinced Flynn that having Moriarty on their side could be useful. Moriarty had promised them that he wouldn’t attempt to kill Shakespeare again. 

Now he was just trying to irritate Flynn and giving him that smirk, that cheeky… woah, that was close. Flynn tensed his muscles, using the force of Moriarty’s attack to his own advantage, turning it into a jump backward instead of getting pushed off-balance. He grinned in challenge, expecting the next stab. He wasn’t disappointed.

He brushed away Moriarty’s hands again and laughed. “Every time.” 

This was fun, he could do this for hours. He skipped back lightly. It almost felt like sparring with Excalibur, although of course nobody could fight like Cal. By extension, nobody could fight like Flynn. He missed exercising with Cal. It had always been the high point of his day. 

In hindsight, thinking of Cal was probably not such a smart idea. The distraction had been just what Moriarty needed. Flynn tried to bring up his hands again, but he was too late. Moriarty grabbed onto the lapels of Flynn’s vest and held on tight. Flynn tried to dislodge Moriarty’s extended arms, but they were stronger than expected, immovable from such close distance. Moriarty simply stepped forward and shoved Flynn along, his knuckles pushing against Flynn’s chest. He had no choice but to let himself be pushed. He struggled to throw his weight forward and failed, his shoes skidding on the grass. There was a knowing grin on Moriarty’s face now. His eyes sparkled with amusement as he marched Flynn across the lawn, closer and closer to the shallow pool behind him. 

“Every time?” his eyebrows rose mockingly.

Flynn huffed and tried a quick lunge to the left, but Moriarty anticipated him. Before he could try another move, Flynn’s heels hit the flat stone step at the edge of the pool. He threw back his arms, flailing, but to his surprise, Moriarty was holding on fast. He leaned away from Flynn with all his weight, his grin getting even wider. It took Flynn a second to realize that he wasn’t going to fall, and he completely missed that Moriarty was now pulling instead of pushing. Flynn crashed forward, trying to brace himself, but Moriarty was pulling him so close, all he could do was avoid hitting him nose-first. Flynn’s arms ended up wrapping around Moriarty, gripping his back, trying to find his balance. 

They were way too close now. Flynn tried to scramble away, but Moriarty’s fingers curled tighter into Flynn’s vest. The smell of Moriarty’s leather jacket filled Flynn’s nose, and sweat, and traces of cologne, and he forgot what he’d been trying to do. There was a strange current running between them. He was shivering, completely unable to move, just breathing in the overwhelming smells. Every hair on his body stood on end. Something seemed to change in Moriarty’s stance. There was a sudden skip in his body tension, and he started leaning forward in slow motion. Flynn’s eyes were stuck on the damp curls behind Moriarty’s ear as he watched him come closer and closer, until his high collar pressed against Flynn’s cheek. He whispered into Flynn’s ear, “Did you feel that, too?” 

Moriarty loosened his fists, his eyes lingering on Flynn’s face in an uncharacteristically puzzled look. He finally dropped his eyes and let his fingers trace lightly across Flynn’s throat. Flynn could have sworn it was deliberate. 

Moriarty turned and walked away without another look. Flynn was left standing at the edge of the pool, breathing hard, weak in the knees, and helplessly aroused.

\---

The afternoon was a challenge to get through. His thoughts kept running away from him while the three of them were combing the gardens, looking for Shakespeare. Eve was worried they’d miss Prospero turning up and insisted on them keeping an eye on Shakespeare at all times. But while they’d gone to free Moriarty, assuming Shakespeare would not leave the stage all day, Shakespeare had done exactly that and now was nowhere to be found.

Whenever Flynn didn’t pay attention, his constant vague jealousy of Moriarty and this incomprehensible new emotion clashed and struck sparks. Moriarty stayed out of sight as much as possible, which just made Flynn expect him behind every tree. He caught himself watching for Moriarty more than for Shakespeare. He’d never thought of Moriarty as anything else than devious, someone to watch out for because he was trying to seduce Eve. Now that image mixed with spicy smells, fighting skills, and insufferable smirks directed at Flynn himself… The result was unsettling, to say the least. 

What had that look been? He didn’t think Moriarty had actually been trying to seduce him. But there had been something magnetic about his fingers on Flynn’s skin, like he couldn’t let go. Maybe Moriarty had been trying to make him uncomfortable at first, but then the plan had backfired. It made Flynn feel better to think he wasn’t the only one who was completely blindsided.

Even though Flynn was unable to concentrate, it wasn’t his fault they couldn’t find Shakespeare. They found out where he was, they just couldn’t get at him. He was attending a private dinner with a patron of the Royal Theatre. Reports ranged from King James himself, over various lords, to wealthy businessmen. Flynn didn’t really care who Shakespeare dined with, but they didn’t have a choice but to postpone their plans until morning.

They arranged to meet again for breakfast, and Flynn and Eve went back to their room at the inn. This was already their second night there, but he had a feeling it wouldn’t be as easy as last night. It had been surprisingly easy, in fact…


	2. Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee

_‘Then may I dare to boast how I do love thee’_

\--- 

Shakespeare (Shakespeare!) had talked to the owner of the inn and insisted on paying for their room. Flynn was happy they were given one room, until he saw how small it was. He’d hoped it would have two beds, but of course it didn’t. At least the bed looked big enough, but they still wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably: the mattress felt and smelled like it was filled with straw. It was suspended on ropes, which made it sag strangely when Flynn sat down on it. At least the linens looked clean, and there were dark woolen blankets. Those, on the other hand, smelled worse than their clothes. He hoped Eve had sufficiently accustomed her nose to the 17th century by now. There was a leaded glass window with wooden shutters, and a table with a basin and a candle, but nothing else. No heating, no fireplace. There were curtains around the bed to keep in warm air, but that was it. 

“How about I sleep on the floor?” He looked at the dark hardwood floor skeptically. It didn’t look too dirty, but it was going to be cold and drafty.

“Yeah, no way. I’ll sleep on that floor before you do.” Eve crossed her arms in front of her chest. Flynn knew that look. He hadn’t been that serious about sleeping on the floor, anyway. Of course he wasn’t going to make her sleep on the floor, either.

They both turned to the bed and looked at it skeptically. Flynn saw the wisdom in sharing a bed, even though he didn’t really think he and Eve should get that close again just yet. True love was all good and well, but he felt like this was a step that required some more consideration. Admittedly, he hadn’t given it much thought yet. Every time his thoughts had wandered to being with Eve, he got sidetracked by the feeling that she was still angry at him. 

Flynn had racked his brain about that so often already, but there was no obvious solution. He didn’t even know what exactly she was angry about, except that he’d wanted to work alone. He’d come around on that issue somewhat since then. He was back and intended to stay, but she still hadn’t accepted him back, not completely. 

He didn’t know what else she expected of him, but he had spent long nights thinking. Over the last few weeks, he’d assembled a list of arguments. He hadn’t expected to recite them to her while lying in bed with her, but he could probably make it work nonetheless.

Eve had matter-of-factly ordered him to lie under the woolen blanket so he was with his back to the wall. She’d arranged herself with her own back to him, enough distance between them so they weren’t touching anywhere but she was still protecting him with her body like a proper Guardian. At least they were still fully dressed — no way was he getting undressed in such an unsanitary room — and he counted his blessings.

It had been light out for longer than he’d expected, but of course it made sense. It was late spring and they were in England. But now the sun had finally gone down and it was pitch dark in their bed with the curtains drawn. He hoped Eve was still awake enough to listen. 

It took him a while to gather his courage. When he’d discarded the third idea for how to start his argument, he lost his patience and huffed in annoyance at himself.

“What is it?” Eve sounded sleepy, but Flynn decided there was no time like the present and started talking.

“I don’t know. This is uncomfortable and unsatisfying. I missed this, and even though you’re here, we’re here, it’s not the same, and I still miss it. I mean, I was on my own for ten years, always, and never missed anything - well, no, that’s not true, actually, I did miss things at first. But I got used to being alone. I talked to myself all day, and sometimes all night, and it was enough. 

“Then you came along and I didn’t realize how much I’d gotten used to falling asleep with you. It’s different, if someone is actually listening to what I’m saying. You were always interested in what I had to say. I got used to you and now I miss you, you know. Especially at night.”

Eve chuckled.

“Ah, I know how it sounds, but that’s not what I meant.” He waved his hand in the air to explain, and felt the air ghost cooly across his heated cheeks. “I mean, yes, of course, I missed kissing you and holding you, too, but I really just meant that I liked talking to you at the end of the day.”

He let his hand flop down on the blanket, trying to pick up his thread from before she had distracted him. 

“What I was trying to say is that I didn’t expect I’d be missing you. Until you were gone. But it gave me a lot of time to think about what I said. And I thought about what you said, too. I know I have to prove to you that I listened. Because I did, I do, it just sometimes doesn’t look that way.”

His hands started fidgeting against his will. He managed to tuck his right hand under his hip before it brushed Eve’s ass. He was unable to rein in the other one and gave up trying, letting the fingers flex as they needed.

“I made this list of things that I need to tell you. Or, maybe, not a list, it’s more of a group, or a moebius strip...” 

This was just what he’d been afraid of. The threads were already starting to unravel. He took a deep breath, trying to rearrange his thoughts. Eve was remarkably silent, even though he hadn’t been very coherent.

He listened to her breathing, just to check whether she’d fallen asleep. She hadn’t. He still had a chance to get through this. 

“I’ll just start chronologically: the first thing you said to me was that you didn’t want me to charge ahead. But you also didn’t want me to follow your lead. That confused me for the longest time. I don’t play well with others, never have, but I tried, for you, right from the start. 

“Then you told me both my ideas were wrong.” Flynn huffed in remembered frustration. He wasn’t usually this dense, but figuring out what she’d meant had taken him weeks. “I didn’t get it. I don’t think I could have, then. Now I know what you meant, and it’s so obvious. The way you worked with the LITs, and the way you talked to me… I admit it took me a while to see that there’s a third solution to the problem. I just don’t have any experience with it. Working together, I mean. 

“But I’m willing to try. I have tried. I haven’t had much time to prove it yet, but ever since we got back from Cicely Island, I have made an effort to work with your plans. I’m trying to communicate. To let you know when I have an idea and what it is.”

Flynn smiled even as he kept talking. He’d managed to get out his argument, and she hadn’t disagreed! It was suddenly much easier to continue. “I try to remember everyone’s strengths and when to use them. That’s including the fact that your influence over the LITs is much greater than mine. Which is also my fault, I think. But I can do this. I have to.

“I know, I said I don’t need anyone, and while that’s technically true — I could spend the rest of my life the way I spent the last ten years — I really don’t want to anymore. I may not need you to survive, but I want you there. I can’t explain it, it’s confusing. It’s like something inside me hurts when you’re not with me. Like there’s a cut in my heart, and no matter what I do, it still hurts… mmmph”

Eve was suddenly kissing him. She’d turned around and her whole body was plastered against him, pressing him against the wall, while she held his head so she could kiss him more deeply. She’d interrupted his speech! He hadn’t even promised her not to run anymore, which was the most important part! 

But her lips were wet and warm. He had to kiss her back and pull her closer, until there was no air left in his lungs and his heart was racing. She was so much lighter and softer in his arms than he remembered. He never wanted to let go. He had to roll over on top of her. Their legs were tangling in the blanket, and everything was too hot, and the suede of their pants shifted between them when she pushed her leg up, and oh god, “Oh god, stop,” he gasped. He let go of her and flopped back onto his side, trying not to reach for her, not to move at all, until his body was ready to come back from the brink. 

Eve stayed on her back, heaving in deep breaths. The only point of contact between them was her foot stroking up and down his shin. Strangely, it helped calm him. He focused on that movement and they both just caught their breath for a while. When his body had returned to manageable levels of excitement, he apologized to Eve. 

Instead of an answer, she gave him a chaste kiss and smiled against his lips. Flynn carefully pulled her close again and just held her, reveling in the feel of her in his arms. He slowly moved his hand up and down her back and buried his nose in her hair. It blessedly smelled nothing like the 17th century. Flynn grappled for the right words to say.

Eve tipped her head up and brushed his nose with hers. “Let me guess… you want to finish your speech?”

“No. Yes. No.”

“Not in this bed? Not in these clothes?”

“Yes. That. Yes.”

“Okay,” she smiled, and touched his face, swiping her thumb back and forth until his cheek was dry. “Oh, but I’ve missed you so much.”

By the end, her voice was breaking. He couldn’t help kissing her again. It felt more important than telling her how much he’d missed her, too. So he held her as close as possible, kissing away the tears from her eyelids and her cheeks and pressing his lips to hers. They were so soft. He let her kiss him everywhere in return, still unable to comprehend that she was back in his arms. 

He knew, or he hoped, at least, but he wasn’t quite sure. After a while the question loomed so large he had to ask: “Are we good?”

“Yes, we’re good. You don’t have to get everything right the first time. I know you try.” She kissed him again, and he kissed her back, and he hadn’t felt this light in his life. 

That was it, she was back. It was hard to keep their kisses slow and their embrace warm rather than hot, but they managed. He didn’t manage to stop the tears that started flowing again when he thought of how lucky he was, but he was too happy to care.


	3. Hence, thou suborned informer!

_‘Hence, thou suborned informer! A true soul_  
_When most impeached stands least in thy control.’_

\--- 

Things had fallen into place so beautifully last night. Everything had been so easy. Now Flynn slunk into bed, just wanting the day to be over. He hoped Eve would give him some space, some more time to think. There was nothing to do, no books to read, no teeth to brush, no clothes to change. In no time, Eve was snuggled up to him, and he felt like the world’s worst person.

The thoughts kept popping up without his approval. Moriarty’s fingers caressing Flynn’s throat, his voice caressing his ear. The feel of Moriarty’s sleek jacket under Flynn’s hands. He could almost still smell him and opened his eyes in confusion, but it was too dark to see anything. Flynn could barely even make out Eve’s blonde hair right in front of his face. His brain painted the darkness with bright sparks that confused his vision further. He tried to focus, counting his own heartbeats, anything to calm himself. But his thoughts didn’t want to leave him alone. They replayed over and over. The vertigo of being held at the brink of falling. Being crushed against Moriarty’s chest, held close by impossibly strong arms. 

His body remembered as well, which would have been embarrassing in any case, but even worse now that Eve might misconstrue his motives. He wanted to turn away from her to get some room, but there was none, so he settled for shifting his hips away from her, pressing back against the paneled wall. Of course, being Eve, she noticed his discomfort anyway. But what came out of her mouth was not what he expected at all.

“I can’t stop thinking about Moriarty.”

What? He didn’t know what to say to that. He wasn’t even able to formulate possible answers, because his brain was completely stuck on _‘me neither.’_ That wasn’t helping at all. He just lay there frozen, that single thought racing in circles in his head, and hoped his heart wouldn’t beat right out of his chest.

“I mean, I still have these… I guess they’re memories, of calling him James. Of kissing him.” Finally, this seemed to be helping. A cool wave of jealousy doused the heat simmering under his skin, and he was at least able to listen to Eve. “I don’t know how I could have wanted to be with him.”

“I do.” Okay, so not helping again. Even though parts of his anatomy had totally misinterpreted what he was trying to say, he forged on, “I mean, he was not a villain in your dream world. And when you take away the evil mastermind part, he has quite a few things going for him. He’s smart.” Not helping. Not helping at all. “I know you like smart.”

Eve huffed out a quiet laugh.

“And he helped you, twice.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know whether he helped me or just himself. Or even just did his job as Prospero’s henchman. Although I admit I am confused by his willingness to help us now.”

Flynn didn’t know what to say to that. He was just trying to catch up to the words that had come out of his own mouth just now. Did he actually just admit out loud that Moriarty was smart? And possibly not evil? Did he mean that? Everything was completely jumbled in his head.

Oh, things had been so much easier yesterday. 

Flynn wondered whether he should encourage Eve to make him jealous. That would at least channel his thoughts onto a familiar path. 

But Eve’s low voice interrupted his train of thought. “You’re right, he is smart, but I wonder if he’s not too smart. I keep suspecting some evil ploy behind all of his actions. I don’t know how much free will we can attribute to him. How much did Arthur Conan Doyle actually write about him, and in what is he free to choose? He tried to convince me that he wasn’t evil, just a victim of his environment.”

“Maybe,” he admitted grudgingly, “but I’ve yet to witness a selfless act from Moriarty. And he’s done nothing but try to seduce you from the moment I met him.”

“I’m not sure that was all me, though. I think he did it just as much to annoy you. Especially after what I saw him do to you today.”

Flynn’s heart was suddenly beating up into his throat. He hadn’t been able to look Eve in the eye all afternoon. The only thing that made it bearable right now was the fact that it was pitch black. And he still imagined her gaze piercing him. He desperately wanted to fill the growing silence, but his head was completely empty.

Eve shifted in his arms, fitting her head into the crook of his neck. Her hand found his and she asked softly, “What happened there between the two of you?”

Flynn debated denying everything. but Eve was way too perceptive. He had never once managed to lie to her. And her voice sounded so small and… hurt. “I’m... sorry? I don’t even know what happened, myself. He touched me,” Flynn’s mouth went dry, his fingers flexing in Eve’s grip the only part of his body he was able to move. “There was something between us, a connection. I don’t know. He was suddenly there, and I felt… it was so unexpected.”

Eve’s shoulders tensed. “Do you think he did something to you? Something magical?”

And wouldn’t that be an easy way out for him. Flynn laughed nervously. He had replayed it so often in his head, but he was pretty sure Moriarty hadn’t been playing him. He might be a good actor, but there had been something in his eyes, something raw, that Flynn knew was real. “He asked me if I felt it, too. And he seemed just as confused as I was. I thought about this all day, and I don’t think he planned any of it.”

“I couldn’t see much of his face, but I saw yours. You looked thunderstruck.”

The realization that Eve had been watching them tied Flynn’s stomach into knots. She already knew! The only relief was that he hadn’t tried to lie to her just now. His voice was only a whisper, but it was all he could manage. “That has never happened to me with a man before.” 

Waiting motionless for Eve’s wrath to strike felt like it took ages, but finally she answered pensively, “I don’t know whether he hasn’t been endowed with an unfair amount of attractiveness. Like Arthur Conan Doyle invented him to be one of the two smartest persons on Earth, maybe he also made him irresistible?”

That wasn’t what he had expected at all. He was finally able to loosen his cramped muscles a little. Paradoxically, that increased the pain, and Flynn shook himself. “You think we had no choice in this? I can’t believe that. I don’t want to believe that.” 

But Flynn hadn’t thought about it like this before. He searched his memory for a minute before he answered.

“No. I have read the complete works of Arthur Conan Doyle. He never even mentions Sherlock’s sex life, much less Moriarty’s. But I believe that Moriarty has a lot of the same characteristics Sherlock has. He was written to be his perfect nemesis, after all. Maybe he was just looking for the best way to divert our attention. He knew that would work best, and it did. It doesn’t mean anything at all.”

“Hm, possible.” Eve shifted in his arms, and she didn’t sound happy. “And later on, he was still complimenting me to get what he wanted, not because any of it was true?”

She sighed and fell silent. He suspected they were both thinking the same thing. How could Moriarty have gotten to them? What was so fascinating about Moriarty? Flynn’s brain was no help. He wished he could forget this afternoon and return to his clear-cut opinions about Moriarty. He was still struggling with himself when Eve said, “But what about his happy-ever-after alter ego? Did he have ulterior motives, too? Because it felt different.”

Flynn let his forehead rest against Eve’s ear. “I’m not sure. I guess it felt different to you because you didn’t have the whole story anymore. You’d forgotten about his negative sides. But he was still aware he was fictional, wasn’t he? He wasn’t caught in the dream like the rest of us.”

“I don’t know. I think he entered into the spell willingly, but once he was in it, I think his desires manifested just like ours. I certainly didn’t want to be his girlfriend.” 

Flynn smiled at that and kissed Eve’s hand.

She went on, “That wish must have come from him. Or maybe he was still playing me because his ultimate goal was to win.”

“Maybe. There’s nothing in his story that suggests he needed you for a happy ending. The only thing even remotely romantic that ever happens to Sherlock Holmes is Irene Adler, and Sherlock doesn’t consider her part of a happy ending. Even if Moriarty is a mirror image of Sherlock, that wish is unlikely to come from his story.”

Eve sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that. But I think so, too. His affection felt real to me.” Eve snuggled closer into him, and Flynn realized how comfortable he felt. Eve didn’t seem to be very jealous at all. He checked where his own jealousy went, but it was nowhere to be seen, even though they were discussing their mutual attraction to Moriarty. He felt a surge of affection for Eve and pulled her closer to him. He didn’t deserve her.

“What do we do now?” Flynn sighed.

Once again, Eve’s reaction completely surprised him: she pulled on the drawstrings on his collar, twisting them in her hand so they constricted his throat. In a tone that brooked no argument, she told him, “You’re mine.” 

It set off a cascade of emotions in Flynn. 

He’d completely missed her jealousy before. But he wasn’t mad it was there, now. She was strong and possessive, exactly the way he loved her. 

His body reacted immediately, which was reassuring. Everything had been so jumbled, he’d been afraid he might not be attracted to Eve anymore.

The way she had him by his throat, helpless and almost unable to move without strangling himself, was immensely freeing. It was the first time all day that he could think clearly. 

“Yes. I’m yours.” His voice was a bit scratchy, but it didn’t matter. She believed him. She pulled him in for a kiss, the strings cutting into his throat. He loved her so much. How could he ever have doubted their love?

He could barely even open his mouth, her fist was so tight under his chin, but it didn’t matter. She had it all under control, her lips crushed against his. It couldn’t get any better than this. 

But he was wrong about that. Slowly, her grip loosened and as soon as his jaw dropped open, there was her tongue, and, okay, so that was the best. 

He was wrong again. When she let go, her fingers slipped down over his throat. He suddenly had a flashback to Moriarty touching that exact spot. A fierce spike of arousal shot through him, so strong his moan sounded loud even in the curtained bed. 

Then things got confusing. Flynn had the horrible feeling that he had underestimated his attraction to Moriarty and Eve was going to punish him for it after all, because she turned away from him at that moment. He tried to reach for her, but her arm was stretched out behind her, pushing against Flynn’s hip, holding him back with determination. 

Then he heard it, too. There was a scuffling noise on the floor of their room. 

Eve was already in full Guardian mode. She shifted the curtain aside and checked the room. Flynn’s brain was only then catching up, and he had to fight his urge to jump up and run. Eve would handle this. He peered over her head and actually saw something. Slivers of moonlight were filtering through the shutters. With his eyes now completely accustomed to the dark, he could see there was a shape near the wall opposite the bed. It shuddered and shifted on the floor. Flynn recognized shoes and legs, and then the rest of it resolved into a human shape: a man was huddling on the floor, bent in on himself and groaning. He sounded like he was in pain. It didn’t look like he was in any state to rob or attack them.

But what was he doing in their bedroom at night? Was he a drunk in the wrong room? The door hadn’t been opened; it had a latch on the inside which they had locked. The shutters on the windows were still closed, as well. 

Eve had gotten up and was approaching the man slowly. 

“Don’t get too close!” he whispered after her, but she didn’t heed his warning. Instead, she quickly got down next to the man.

“James? What’s wrong?”

James? What? 

Flynn was on his feet and standing next to Eve before he knew what was happening. From this distance, it was unmistakably Moriarty. For a second he was frozen on the spot. A cold shiver ran down Flynn’s spine, and his head started to swim. The flimsy grasp on equanimity he’d gained in the last hour slipped away again. 

Eve didn’t have any such problems. Flynn watched as she touched Moriarty’s shoulder and tried to turn him onto his back. Moriarty didn’t budge. He just stayed hunched over and let out another breath that sounded like he was in a lot of pain. Eve touched Moriarty’s cheek, and something strange happened. Both she and Moriarty gasped for air, and a twitch went through all of Moriarty’s limbs. 

“What was that?” Flynn grabbed Eve by the shoulders and pulled her away from Moriarty. She lost her balance and ended up sitting on the floor. Flynn crouched next to her and tried pulling at her again to get her farther away from Moriarty. 

Apparently, Eve was not thinking the same thing Flynn was. “Flynn, leave me alone. We have to help him.” She fought against Flynn’s hands and tried to move forward again. 

Flynn wasn’t about to bodily fight her, so he moved back, annoyed. Moriarty had started moaning again and gone back into his embryo position. Flynn watched warily as she leaned down again and put her hand on Moriarty’s cheek, just like before. Eve had prepared herself, apparently, because she stayed completely still this time, but Moriarty twitched again. Then his legs went limp and straightened out, but he made no aggressive move. Yet. 

Flynn kept watching as Eve asked Moriarty again what was wrong with him. This time her voice sounded worried. Moriarty’s breathing was still labored, but his response was clearly audible: “I’ll be fine.” 

Eve looked back at Flynn, as if he’d know what was wrong with Moriarty. He just shrugged and shook his head. 

Moriarty reached up slowly and took Eve’s hand in his. “Give me another minute. And call me James again.”

What the… ? Did he come into their bedroom in the middle of the night to try and seduce Eve again? Who did he think he was? At least Eve didn’t do as he asked. Flynn welcomed his resurging jealousy. It was much better than confusion or panic. He kept his eye on Moriarty, ready to react at any sign of danger.

When Moriarty asked them to help him up, Flynn demonstratively crossed his arms over his chest. He watched Eve pull Moriarty up into a sitting position until Eve complained: “Come on, Flynn, don’t be an ass. He’s heavy.”

Grudgingly, Flynn grabbed onto Moriarty’s jacket. Together, they got Moriarty to stand up. He was still leaning heavily on Flynn’s shoulder, his knees obviously shaking. Flynn wanted to put some distance between them again as fast as possible. 

They led him the two steps towards the bed. Eve pulled the curtains all the way open before they let Moriarty sink down onto the edge. Flynn pushed himself away from Moriarty as soon as he was no longer in danger of falling.

Eve tried to make Moriarty lie down, but Moriarty resisted, grabbing Eve’s hand in both of his. “Don’t! Don’t let go.”

Flynn bristled and crossed his arms in front of his chest again, glaring at Eve. But she didn’t even notice him, she was completely focused on Moriarty. “Okay, James. Can you tell us what’s wrong now?” Eve sat down next to Moriarty, still letting him hold her hand. She waited patiently, but Moriarty seemed unwilling to answer, just staring at the floor. 

Flynn was getting cold and wanted to get back into his bed, but not while Moriarty was in it, that much was clear. He stepped from one foot onto the other, undecided. He was just about to take back everything good he’d thought about Eve before, when she held out her free hand to Flynn. “Come here before you freeze your feet off.” 

He took Eve’s hand on instinct, and she pulled him towards the bed. He clambered in next to her, just because his feet were getting cold. And because now he at least had one of her hands, which he intended on keeping for himself. He crossed his legs to warm his feet and held onto her hand. 

Flynn was completely unable to sit still or think straight with Moriarty this near. Flynn felt like he wasn’t really there. He just had to trust that Eve would deal with the situation. He tried to keep an eye on Moriarty, but couldn’t concentrate on watching him. His eyes kept drifting around the shadows, unable to fasten on anything. The only thing that seemed to help anchor him somewhat was Eve’s thumb rubbing his palm. Flynn closed his eyes and hoped for this weird limbo to end.

Moriarty’s breathing calmed down after a while and Eve prompted him again: “James? What happened?” Her voice snapped Flynn out of his drifting state. Moriarty’s face was barely visible in the darkness, but Flynn thought he saw him look pleadingly at Eve. Moriarty pulled Eve’s hand towards his chest, making Flynn tighten his fingers on Eve’s other hand. She reassuringly gripped him back.

“I don’t know,” Moriarty said quietly. “I was sitting on a bench in the garden, attempting to devise a plan for tomorrow, but I couldn’t focus properly.” Moriarty’s eyes flicked to Flynn, and Flynn’s insides knotted. 

Flynn knew exactly what he meant. He crushed Eve’s hand in his, afraid of her reaction. What she did was pull Flynn’s arm closer around her and press his hand against her heart. He heard the _‘you’re mine’_ in it as if she had said it out loud. 

Yes. Yes, he was. Flynn’s insides stopped cramping quite so much, and he was able to listen to Moriarty again.

“...and then I suddenly felt a pull, and I was here, and everything hurt. I haven’t been able to dissolve my body and change location at will since I came to the past. I somehow have less strength here. Less magic.” Moriarty shook his head. “I don’t understand it yet. But that’s what happened. I got pulled here, and I think my strength was utterly depleted because of it. But,” his voice got softer and Flynn had to strain to hear it, “holding your hand seems to help. The pain is almost gone now.”

The jealousy struck Flynn right in the stomach. He almost missed Eve’s quiet “It’s okay.” She pressed Flynn’s hand as she said it - was she pressing both their hands? Flynn felt jealousy pull at him from all sides. He was hanging onto Eve’s hand for dear life.

Moriarty shook himself and dropped Eve’s hand. “This is not appropriate. I must go.” He pushed himself up from the bed, visibly gathering his dignity. 

Eve seemed as surprised at the sudden change as Flynn. Neither said anything as Moriarty walked to the door, head held high. 

“Until tomorrow, then.” His dignity was somewhat compromised when the door didn’t open and he started groping for the latch in the dark. Eve got up, brushing over Flynn’s hand, insistently but softly, wordlessly promising him to be right back. Reluctantly, he let her go so she could step across the room to help Moriarty. 

When the latch creaked back into place, Flynn let out a long breath. He suddenly felt very tired and untethered. Nothing made sense. He shifted back on the bed, hoping sleep would come soon. Eve slid in next to him and closed the curtains, engulfing them in darkness again. She pulled the covers up and fit herself to him. 

“You’re shaking,” she whispered.

“That’s normal. I always start shaking after the danger is over.” He chuckled weakly. Not that it had been danger, Flynn knew. But this level of excitement felt exactly like it did when he’d just escaped a life-threatening situation. He had lots of experience with those.

“You think he posed a danger to us?” Eve sounded skeptical. But she was a Guardian, after all. She had a different concept of what was dangerous and what wasn’t.

“I’m too tired to make sense of it now. It certainly looked like something dangerous was happening when you touched him.” Flynn cupped her cheek to demonstrate. Another shiver traveled through his arms and legs at the memory.

Eve put her hand on his cheek, mirroring him, and leaned close to kiss him gently. Flynn sighed into the kiss and marveled at the warmth of her lips. He would never understand how she did it, but her kiss worked exactly like it always did. 

His racing thoughts stopped. The shaking in his limbs slowly burned away until they felt light and warm and everything was fine. 

Eve gave him a last peck on the lips and smiled at him. “There was nothing dangerous about his touch that I could feel.” She was absently stroking the hair behind Flynn’s ear, and he enjoyed the feeling. 

He also enjoyed that he was able to just listen to her, his brain finally quiet and open for new input. 

“I don’t know if there was anything unusual about it, either.” Eve sounded pensive. “It felt like… I could tell that he needed it.”

“That effect on him was obvious.” Flynn let the images pass before his eyes again. He tried to tell if there had been anything overtly sexual about Moriarty’s behavior, but he couldn’t find anything conclusive. At least the replay was much more bearable now that he was snuggled up in Eve’s arms. 

The jealousy and excitement were still there, in the memories, but distant enough now to be analyzed instead of overwhelming him. He had been in a weird state of mind, and he suspected he hadn’t been as attentive as usual. He now noticed things he hadn’t consciously seen before. 

He saw how Moriarty’s focus had been completely turned inward, pain obviously guiding his behavior. He saw Eve’s apologetic look when she’d sat down next to Moriarty on the bed. 

He tried to recall the moment Moriarty arrived, but there was nothing to recall. He’d missed that completely. 

He believed Moriarty when he said that he hadn’t planned it, but why had he turned up in their bedroom against his will? That was the crux of the matter, and it made no sense. Worse, Flynn was afraid that he was somehow to blame. But he didn’t want to think about that right now. He was too exhausted to worry. He pulled Eve close and burrowed his nose into her hair, grateful she was there with him.


	4. What is your substance, whereof are you made?

_‘What is your substance, whereof are you made?’_

\--- 

The next morning, Flynn woke up at the loud ringing of church bells. The first rays of sunlight were just creeping through the shutters. Eve was snuggled up to him. Even though the bells were loud and he would have liked to sleep a little longer, it was nice and warm and comfortable. He kept his eyes closed and decided to stay in bed as long as possible. He tried to keep the fact that they’d have to go meet Moriarty from his mind, and he mostly managed. 

Moriarty was unlikely to come to the inn’s common room, being a fugitive from the law, as it were. It helped Flynn’s nerves, and he spent another hour joking and chatting with Eve through breakfast. The jitters increased the more time passed, but it was definitely more manageable than the day before. He kept looking at Eve’s happy face to convince himself that everything was fine. 

They went around the house, where the cultivated gardens started. Behind the blooming gardens was a wide meadow, morning mist flowing around the trees in the distance. They walked down the gravel path to the bench they had designated their meeting place. They’d chosen a place out of view and unlikely to have people pass by in the morning, since they needed to keep their association with Moriarty secret. 

Flynn surreptitiously checked his pocket watch a few times. Not that it was showing what he would usually call an accurate time. They’d only had the church clock to go by. But at least it was synchronized with Moriarty’s for the express purpose of their meeting. 

The agreed time came and went, but Moriarty didn’t show up. Finally Eve was getting nervous, too. She called Moriarty’s name a few times, but there was no answer. They agreed that something was wrong and decided to split up. 

Eve took off along the garden path in one direction, and Flynn in the other. His job was to check around the inn and the main house. It was still relatively early in the morning, and there weren’t a lot of people about. When he was walking along the small gravel footpath between the south wing and the chapel, he heard someone moan. He rounded a large rosebush cautiously. 

There he was, barely hidden from sight by thorny branches: Moriarty. He was huddling against the chapel wall, obviously in pain. Flynn had a distinct sense of déjà vu, down to the way his jitters returned the moment he saw Moriarty.

Flynn stopped in his tracks and addressed him from a safe distance: “Moriarty?”

Moriarty quieted and slowly lifted his head to look at Flynn. His face was ashen, and his eyes bloodshot. His legs were trembling, which he was trying to hide by slinging his arms tightly around them.

Moriarty looked pitiful. In daylight, he looked worse than he had last night. What had he done overnight? Flynn didn’t want to think about that. The last thing he wanted was to feel sorry for Moriarty, and the impulse alone annoyed Flynn. Getting angry at him instead came naturally. “Great. You look like you’ve got the worst hangover. And I’m the one who has to drag your ass to work.”

That roused Moriarty. He straightened up a little, anger plain on his face. “If you must know, I did not drink anything. I am not drunk.”

That was the Moriarty Flynn was used to seeing, and it made him feel better immediately. “Yeah, tell that to your grandmother,” Flynn sneered for good measure, willfully ignoring the voice in the back of his head that told him he was being unfair.

“I did not drink!” Moriarty bristled, his legs starting to visibly shake again. Flynn focused on the pink roses next to him instead. 

Moriarty lowered his voice again. “I do not require sustenance. Or sleep. I never did before. When I left you late last night, I came here to wait out the night.”

“Right. Look at you!” Flynn had to look back at him to make his point, and he regretted it immediately. “You look terrible. And you can’t tell me you just forgot about our appointment! We’re here on a mission, and you’re part of it.”

Moriarty’s head sank back onto his knees, the fight going out of him again as fast as it had come. And Flynn’s pity was back. This was not how it was supposed to go! Flynn balled his hands into fists, but it didn’t help. He still wanted to bend down and comfort Moriarty. He looked along the path, checking for company, but they were still alone. Flynn made one last attempt to rouse him. “Come on! The clock’s ticking. Eve’s waiting.”

“I can’t.” Moriarty’s answer was almost too faint to hear, mumbled from between his knees. 

“Yes, you can,” Flynn insisted.

Slowly, Moriarty lifted his head again. Finally, he stretched out a hand towards Flynn. Moriarty’s arm was shaking terribly, and Flynn felt his resistance crumble at Moriarty’s pleading look. Huffing in resignation, he leaned forward to help Moriarty up.

Which was when the second déjà vu of the day happened. 

As soon as their hands touched, a jolt of energy passed between them like an electrical discharge. 

It was magic after all! 

Flynn wasn’t the most experienced guy when it came to being attracted to people — really not at all when those people were men — but he was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. 

Flynn wanted to let go again immediately, but Moriarty gripped his hand tight. Moriarty’s mouth dropped open as he inhaled deeply, like a drowning man. He didn’t get up; instead, he pulled Flynn off-balance. Flynn’s knees twitched and buckled. He dropped down in front of Moriarty, only just catching himself on his hand before his knees hit the gravel. 

A tremor went through Moriarty’s body, and there was a fluctuation in the energy that was flowing between them. It was definitely magic. Flynn knew, even though he’d never felt anything like this before. 

A small part of his mind, the part that wasn’t frozen in shock, was delighted at the fact that magic still held secrets for him, and that he’d discovered another facet. It felt like a form of magnetism that was keeping them connected. 

The tension in Moriarty’s frame seemed to lessen. His breaths came more evenly now. Flynn couldn’t claim the same of his own breaths. 

A horrible thought occurred to him: was Moriarty draining his life force? Flynn’s knees had felt so weak, and Moriarty was obviously gaining strength. His legs had stopped shaking. The hand Flynn was still holding seemed stronger, too. 

Flynn pulled back against the magical resistance, and his hand came free more easily than he’d expected. He scrambled backwards, gravel shifting under his feet and digging painfully into his palms. “What are you doing? Are you some kind of vampire?”

Moriarty shot him a confused look. The hand that had been trying to catch up to Flynn stopped in mid-air. “What? Did that hurt you? I didn’t mean… I didn’t think...” Moriarty’s eyes widened. He let his hand drop. “Eve. She didn’t say anything.”

Flynn stopped short at that, too. Eve had done the same thing with Moriarty last night. She’d touched him and Moriarty had gotten better. Eve hadn’t mentioned any negative effects last night. Either she was trying to seem strong, which Flynn could believe, or she hadn’t noticed. Flynn hadn’t gotten the impression that she’d held anything back from him. He refused to believe that she would lie to him. They’d had a talk about that, and he knew Eve was big on truth.

Maybe it was so minute that she hadn’t felt it? Flynn had to admit that he hadn’t recognized it as magic at first, either. And he wasn’t sure whether it had been just magic that first time. For some reason, that thought hurt, so he set it aside.

Flynn got up, wiping his dirty hands on his pants. He focused inward, trying to gauge his own energy level. His head was fine, no noticeable pain or discomfort. His hands were steady, and so were his legs. Maybe it had just been the shock that had made them buckle? 

He couldn’t tell. He needed more evidence.

He looked at Moriarty, who was staring at his own hands with a stricken look. Flynn went down to squat in front of him. 

“Keep your distance!” Moriarty shrank back, his hands pressing against the wall behind him.

“Okay, okay.” Flynn spread his hands and leaned back on his heels, attempting to look unthreatening. “I’m not sure what happened. But I have to know. We have to try again.” He offered Moriarty his hand palm-up and waited. Moriarty was smart enough, he’d see it was necessary to go about this scientifically.

He was right. It didn’t take long until Moriarty gripped his hand in a firm handshake. 

The flow resumed, just as Flynn had expected, but he didn’t feel like he was losing strength. If he did, it couldn’t have been much. With a look, they agreed to experiment a bit. They tried separating their hands again slowly, and Moriarty’s look confirmed what Flynn felt: the flow ebbed, but it didn’t quite stop even when they weren’t touching. It sustained itself until they were maybe half an inch apart. They could both feel a slight pull up to that distance, too. It was indeed a little like playing with magnets. Flynn looked at Moriarty’s face again and noticed that his eyes had cleared. “You look a lot better.”

“I feel a lot better, too. But…” Moriarty sat up straighter, “do you feel worse?”

Flynn shook his head. He felt just fine. So far.

Moriarty’s forehead creased in thought. Flynn had to assume that he was wearing a similar expression himself. What was happening was puzzling. 

It made no sense that he didn’t feel worse in equal measure to Moriarty feeling better. The energy wasn’t balanced. Energy always had to be balanced. Unless it was connected to their nature — Moriarty was not made of flesh and blood, after all. He was fictional. Maybe he was less substantial, which would also explain the ability to turn into smoke. Flynn pressed Moriarty’s hand for good measure, but he felt solid enough. He wasn’t an illusion, so there must be some mass to him. Unfortunately, all of Flynn’s magical tools were in the future. It would be hard to figure this out without them...

Moriarty got Flynn’s attention again with a tilt of his head, and asked, “May I try something?” 

Flynn frowned at him suspiciously, but nodded. Moriarty let go of Flynn’s hand and slowly lifted his hand to approach Flynn’s face. About at the halfway point, Flynn saw that Moriarty was not reaching for his face, but his throat. He was going for the exact spot he’d touched during their tussle the day before. As soon as Flynn realized that, his skin tingled all over. 

For a second, he was back in that moment. The hairs on his arms stood on end. 

Moriarty made a whining sound. When Flynn caught his gaze, his heart skipped a beat. He saw it in Moriarty’s eyes: they were both feeling it again. 

The weird thing was that Moriarty hadn’t even touched him yet, but Flynn had clearly felt a surge in the power flow as soon as he had thought of Moriarty touching him. He saw Moriarty’s eyes widen and then narrow, a smile tugging at his lips, before his eyes dropped to Flynn’s mouth. He was obviously a step ahead of Flynn, who watched frozen as Moriarty leaned closer. 

Blood was roaring in Flynn’s ears and flowing downward in a rush. He closed his eyes in an effort to stop the onslaught of emotions. Moriarty was close enough now that he could feel his breath cooling his face, but he didn’t come any closer, and he didn’t… Flynn didn’t even manage to put words to what he’d anticipated might happen. All he knew was that it was exciting, and he wanted it. Whatever it was, he wanted it.

“Are you sure?” Moriarty whispered, and Flynn thought he must have read his mind. Moriarty’s voice made all the muscles in Flynn’s stomach jump. 

Sure? No, of course not. Flynn wasn’t sure of anything at all. Right in this moment he didn’t know up from down. He must have somehow communicated that, because Moriarty suddenly left Flynn’s personal space and pushed himself up to stand. 

Flynn’s immediate reaction was that he wanted to kick himself, but then his brain came back online. He realized what they’d just been about to do and sucked in a deep breath. 

“I suggest you think about it.” Moriarty turned away to walk down the gravel path. All signs of his previous weakness were gone. “I will be at the agreed meeting point.” With that, he left Flynn sitting in the middle of the path. He was out of sight behind the roses with two steps.

Flynn shifted around until he could lean against the wall, steadying his reeling head. This hadn’t gone the way he’d planned it. He wrapped his arms around his legs. The irony of his position didn’t escape him.

He’d been dreading that meeting Moriarty would unsettle him just as badly as the day before. He hadn’t been wrong. The worst thing was that he still didn’t understand what had happened, exactly. There was something magical about it, he was sure of that now. But how did it work? It had to be related to Moriarty being fictional, and it was intermingled with... whatever he felt about Moriarty, caused not just by physical proximity. 

But which one was the reason and which the effect? Did they necessitate each other? How was the fact that Moriarty had gone from death warmed over to peak fitness in five minutes connected to those feelings that threatened to drive Flynn insane? Was it connected at all, or was Flynn just too stupid to tell magic from attraction? And what about Eve? What would she say? Did the fact that magic was involved make it better or worse?

He let his head sink into his hands and took a few deep breaths. He had learned something. Maybe he should be content with that for now. 

He knew there was something magic between them. He was pretty sure that Moriarty wasn’t playing him, so Flynn decided to take it seriously. It quite obviously made Moriarty feel better without making Flynn feel worse in equal measure.

Well, not physically, anyway. His emotions were another matter. He wished he was able to keep a clear head when Moriarty was around, that would make things a lot easier. He sighed. He just had to remind himself that he belonged to Eve, and that Eve belonged to him. 

Relief at his own confusion washed over him. It had made Moriarty leave before anything could happen. No, he wasn’t going to cheat on Eve. Maybe he couldn’t control what his body wanted, but he could control what he did with his body. He was the smartest man he knew, and he could do this. 

Maybe it would even get easier with time. At least it had taken longer today for him to lose his cool. They’d been focused on their experiment for a few minutes before his feelings came flooding back out of nowhere. Yes, it would get better with some practice and concentration.

He’d waited long enough. It was time to go collect Eve in the garden and tell her he’d found Moriarty.


	5. By chance or nature’s changing course

_‘By chance or nature’s changing course’_

\--- 

It didn’t take Flynn long to find Eve. She was already on the way back to the inn on her own when he caught up with her. He looped his arm around her waist, so they would be able to face Moriarty together, as a couple. It didn’t work out exactly as he would have liked; she sternly had to remind him that she was still disguised as his ‘boy’ before she disentangled herself from him. But they still got there together, that was better than nothing.

Luckily, Moriarty didn’t act weird or try to show Flynn up. He barely even acknowledged his presence, for which Flynn was secretly thankful. He’d had enough of Moriarty unsettling him for one morning. Now he was anxious to see everyone go their separate ways again and get on with their day.

The idea was that one of them would go through the troupe's props. It was by far the likeliest place to find Prospero's staff. Of course Flynn was aware of the importance of their mission, but he was admittedly more interested in spending some time with Shakespeare. There was no need to rush things. 

Flynn couldn’t deny it, when he’d heard they were still looking for actors in their performance for the king, his heart had soared. He had to get on that stage. It was a dream come true. And of course, it was possible that the staff they were looking for was with Shakespeare, being used for the play they were rehearsing.

Moriarty of course argued that he wanted to help. He suggested Flynn and Eve spend the morning with Shakespeare while Moriarty himself could go look for the staff. He was right that the job didn’t require interaction with people who still wanted to bring him to justice. 

Flynn was skeptical. It was dangerous to send Moriarty within reach of people, especially since Flynn had a feeling that he was more vulnerable than he used to be. But Eve shot Flynn a look that he took to mean _‘Who knows what he’s going to do if we let him run off on his own?’_

Flynn had to agree that it was marginally safer to include Moriarty in their plans. Eve impressed upon Moriarty again that she wanted no more foul play. Flynn doubted it would do any good, but he hoped against hope that Moriarty was trustworthy. 

The troupe’s theatre wagons, two of them, were parked on a lawn next to the manor. It wasn’t the most deserted place, but there were enough possibilities for Moriarty to hide and approach unseen. They didn’t know whether the wagons were guarded, but Moriarty promised he would figure something out. Flynn gave him his lock pick just in case, although none of them had any idea how well it would work with 17th century locks.

It wasn’t important if Moriarty succeeded, anyway, since getting a role in the play would also secure Flynn access to the props without need for subterfuge. Of course he didn’t want Moriarty to get caught, either, but it wasn’t like he needed to feel responsible for him or anything.

They agreed on the plan relatively quickly. Eve made them both recite their parts, which they did for her sake. Flynn could be a team player if he had to. Moriarty, of course, was always excessively trying to please Eve. Finally, she was satisfied, and Flynn had to admit it wasn’t a bad plan.

Before he left, Moriarty shook hands with them. Flynn held on just a little longer than necessary, noticing and consciously supporting the energy that flowed Moriarty’s way. It couldn’t hurt to charge him up for the day.

They watched him vanish into the greenery until Eve pulled on Flynn’s hand, turning him back towards her. She didn’t say anything, just looked at him strangely. It was over before he could summon some presence of mind, and she turned away again and pulled him along the path. She started listing possible scenarios and Flynn forced himself to listen and focus on their next steps.

\---

Flynn had already presented his rendition of Hamlet’s death but his hands were still shaking. He’d given the performance of his life. To Shakespeare! He still didn’t know how to process it all. He gripped his hands behind his back and looked at Eve, who was in the middle of performing a bit from earlier in the same scene. As Gertrude, she was watching another member of the troupe read lines, and regally delivered her own. They had managed to convince Shakespeare that her stature wouldn’t be a hindrance in the role of the queen. _‘In fact, doesn’t the queen deserve to be played by the most beautiful actor?’_ He was rather proud of himself for this line of argument. Eve had actually blushed at his praise. Flynn admitted she looked radiant, even if her performance was less expressive than his own. 

He was distracted by the sound of a very loud cricket in the bush behind him. When the chirping turned into a whispered “Flynn!”, he realized it was not a cricket at all, but Moriarty hiding behind a hedge. 

Flynn reluctantly turned away from Eve’s face as she mimed drinking poison. Unobtrusively, he rounded the hedge to glare at Moriarty. “What’s so important you had to play ‘guess the animal’ with me and call me away from Eve’s audition?”

Moriarty drew him down behind the hedge and shushed him. He peeked around the cover of the leaves at the stage to make sure they weren’t observed. For a minute they both watched Eve. She got up and dropped her poisoned goblet with a clatter. Then she sank to the floor regally and stretched out there, waving her arms weakly but elegantly. Flynn smiled. She looked so unlike Eve, and she wasn’t even wearing a dress, just her woollen socks and breeches. Finally, she let her head drop to the stage and fluttered her eyes closed. 

Moriarty shook himself and tapped Flynn on the shoulder, “It’s done, you’ve seen it. Now.” He cleared his throat and continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “You’ll never guess what I found!”

“The staff? Where is it?” Flynn checked around Moriarty again, but there was no staff in sight. Moriarty was hunkered down behind the low hedge and there was nowhere he could be hiding it on his person. Flynn narrowed his eyes in confusion.

“No, I found something much better.” Moriarty’s eyes were bright with excitement. He paused dramatically before finally whispering, “The Lost Play!” 

“What? Where?” Flynn unconsciously started whispering, too. “Love’s Labour’s Won?” Flynn’s heart skipped a beat. 

The Lost Play! Shakespeare scholars had always suspected it must be a real play, but no written version of it remained. Of course, being a Shakespeare scholar himself, Flynn had scoured the Library for evidence of it years ago, but hadn’t found anything conclusive. Shakespeare had nothing to do with magic, so that hadn’t been surprising at the time, if still a little disappointing. But now, here, of course it must be possible to determine once and for all. And, oh, they’d be able to bring it back to the future! 

_‘Don’t get ahead of yourself,’_ Flynn had to admonish himself. He didn’t even know if they’d ever be able to return to the future at all. But at least he’d be able to see the play, read it for himself, maybe even sneak a copy into the Library. That alone was… this day was turning out to be full of dreams come true.

“Show me!” he urged Moriarty.

“I don’t have the play itself, I just found a drawer with its name on it.”

“Really? Just the name? Are you even sure it was the lost play? Could you read it properly in the dark?” Flynn wanted to believe him, but this was too little to go on.

“I can show you…” Moriarty frowned. “But we’ll have to wait until nightfall and break into the props wagon again.”

“Hm. What kind of risk are we talking about? Was it guarded?”

Moriarty shook his head. “There was no guard this morning when I first went in. I could take my time looking through the first wagon. But someone appeared while I was in the second one and opened them both up for the day. I hid behind a costume rack. I waited until he was distracted and slipped out again unnoticed.” Moriarty gave Flynn a calculating look. “You, on the other hand, may be allowed in by the guard just for the price of asking.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes. Moriarty had a point. “Okay, I’ll try. You stay out of sight.” 

Flynn got up from behind the hedge and shot Eve a look, but she didn’t look back. She was engrossed in a discussion with Shakespeare. Flynn thought she’d seen him get up, even though she didn’t interrupt her conversation or give any other sign she’d noticed him. But she was perceptive. Flynn was sure she’d give him a sign, or come after him, if she had a problem with him leaving. Confident he had her blessing, Flynn made his way behind the hedge in the direction of the props wagons. Moriarty moved after him slowly, but wisely stayed down.

Flynn approached the burly actor who sat dozing on a stool next to the open door of one of the wagons. Flynn decided to just go with the truth, or something close enough. 

“Good morning, dear sir!” Flynn announced and bowed deeply.

The “guard” jerked awake, blinking, so Flynn went on, “I have heard you have costumes for ‘Love’s Labour’s Won’? I have always wanted to see Ferdinand’s wedding clothes! Would it inconvenience thee much if thou letst me take a look?”

“Ah, you’re Will’s Flemish acquaintance.” The man shrugged and got up from his seat. “Of course, if it please ye. They are naught special.” 

He didn’t sound surprised. He also didn’t laugh, and, oh god, that meant the play really existed! Flynn could barely keep his excitement in check. The man took his sweet time getting up, yawning and stretching lazily. Flynn was close on his heels when he finally stomped up the wooden stairs and into the wagon. The interior was gloomy compared to the bright sunshine outside, even with the door and the lone window open. It took Flynn’s eyes a few seconds to adjust. The actor was already rummaging through a line of costumes hanging from a rack on the wall, mumbling what sounded like character names from different plays.

Flynn quickly took stock of the small space. Clothing racks were hung in the back on both sides. The floor was covered in open wooden boxes filled with loose scraps of cloth and other small props - feathers and swords, silverware and crowns. A cabinet with at least six wide drawers was fitted to the wall right next to where Flynn was standing. The cabinet drawers were indeed labeled, just like Moriarty had said. The script was florid and old-fashioned, but that had never posed a problem to Flynn. One of the labels said _“marchant of vennis, taming of a shrew, loves labor lost, loves labor won”_. Now Flynn’s heart started beating in earnest. He tried to surreptitiously pull the drawer open, but it creaked terribly.

Flynn only had a second to ascertain that there were sheafs of paper inside before the guard shouted at him, “Hey, fingers off the scripts!” and Flynn quickly pushed the drawer shut again. Lifting both arms over his head, he replied soothingly, “I’m sorry. My curiosity got the better of me. I’ll wait outside then.” The guard just huffed in annoyance, but said nothing else as Flynn backed down the ladder.

Blinking against the sunlight, Flynn’s eyes sought out Moriarty, who was still crouching behind the hedge. Flynn quickly gestured at him that he was successful. Moriarty’s answering gesture was clearly meant to say “I told you so”, but Flynn couldn’t even mind. He couldn’t keep the happiness off his face. He just kept grinning at Moriarty.

Moriarty made a strange aborted gesture, almost getting up from behind the hedge but stopping himself at the last moment. Happiness spread across Moriarty’s face, too. It looked strange on him. Flynn didn’t think he’d ever seen him happy. 

Flynn’s cheeks were hurting he was grinning so hard. The Lost Play! 

Flynn suddenly realized there was energy flowing between him and Moriarty again, despite their distance. It didn’t make any sense, but he felt like they were connected, never mind the 50 feet between them. They probably were. Two co-conspirators in on a secret. 

They were still grinning at each other when the actor came out of the wagon. Flynn turned away quickly, hoping he hadn’t alerted the man to Moriarty. He tried to subdue his excitement. Keeping his hands and feet as still as possible, he feigned interest in the heavy brocaded robe he was presented with. It looked very expensive, even at close range, not like a theater prop at all. He found he didn’t have to fake much. The robe was actually interesting. 

He was permitted to try it on. The linen fabric hung heavy on his shoulders and the sable fur collar was incredibly soft under his fingers. Flynn twirled with it a bit, imagining he was playing the king, striding across the lawn as if it was a stage. Flynn shot Moriarty a glance whenever he passed near the hedge. Moriarty was still smiling.

Flynn understood. Nothing could ruin Flynn’s good mood now, either. 

It got pretty hot under the dark fur collar, though, so Flynn didn’t mind much that the actor grumbled at him to take it off again after only a minute. It wasn’t like he was going to run off with it! But he thanked the man and slowly backed away in the direction of Moriarty’s hiding place.

When he was sure nobody was watching, Flynn ducked behind the hedge and gripped Moriarty by the shoulder. “You were right, there’s a drawer full of scripts.”

Moriarty interrupted him with a smirk, “Your face plainly gave that fact away.”

Flynn squirmed, “Well, yes. It’s the Lost Play! I’m pretty sure we’ll find it in there. I never would have thought of going to look for it, if it hadn’t been for you…” Flynn trailed off as Moriarty’s piercing gaze focused on him. Flynn suddenly realized how close they were. Moriarty’s hand was gripping Flynn’s shoulder, his pose mirroring his own. 

Sweat broke out on Flynn’s forehead. Time seemed to stretch between them. The air almost crackled with energy. 

The moment was broken when Moriarty cleared his throat and whispered, “We should tell Eve.”

Eve.

Flynn shook his head. Yes, Eve. He’d forgotten about Eve. And Shakespeare. 

Flynn shook his head again. He couldn’t think. His eyes kept returning to Moriarty’s face. Flynn wasn’t sure Eve would be interested in the Lost Play. Maybe she would even try to dissuade them from recovering it. She hated time travel and she was sure to make the conservative decision. But Flynn wasn’t sure he should keep it from her, either. They had agreed to work together. Flynn was aware that plans were most easily compromised when one party withheld information from the other. He’d really been serious about making it work with Eve from now on. Not that he was currently doing anything to make that happen. Quite the contrary, he was sitting here with Moriarty, and… 

“Flynn!” Moriarty prompted him again.

Flynn took a deep breath and mumbled in the direction of Moriarty’s shoes. “Yes, yes, Eve. Okay. I’ll tell her. But...”

“You think she won’t like it.”

Flynn nodded. “You’re smarter than you look.”

“Am I?” The voice ran over Flynn’s skin like tiny needles. He found his gaze had traveled back up to Moriarty’s face against his will. He was in dangerous territory. Flynn’s thoughts evaporated. He remembered he’d made a decision this morning, but he didn’t remember what it had been.

Again, Moriarty seemed to be the one whose brain was still working, because he shook himself. Gripping Flynn’s shoulder harder, he said, “We should tell her together. We stand a better chance of convincing her if we’re two against one.”

That made sense. “Okay, let’s meet in our usual place,” Flynn checked his watch, “in two hours.”

“Agreed.”

\---

It turned out Flynn didn’t need to stall Eve at all. While Flynn and Moriarty had been busy with the props, Eve had made her own discovery. She showed Flynn the pen she’d seen Shakespeare use. Flynn had to agree, it looked an awful lot like Prospero’s staff.

Flynn surreptitiously tested it with the magic detector he had brought with him. It showed him that the pen was definitely magically active. Flynn thought it highly probable that Prospero would manifest somewhere close by. There was nothing else they could do but stay with Shakespeare and wait for strange things to start happening. 

Of course, in those two hours, nothing strange at all happened. At least they were above suspicion. Nobody questioned them hanging around close to Shakespeare all the time. Flynn waited a while before telling Eve about meeting Moriarty. Flynn had one eye and ear on the auditions stretching on through the day, but the rest of his concentration went into mental preparation: coming up with stringent arguments to convince Eve of his and Moriarty’s plan. 

Speaking of which, he tried to think as little as possible about Moriarty. His decision from this morning, to ignore whatever was between him and Moriarty, had come back to him in the meantime, of course. He intended to keep his resolution, so he focused on Eve instead. 

On the way her hair was completely hidden under her cap except for a few golden wisps. How that made her beautiful neck look even longer and even more elegant, distracting him from the way Moriarty’s hand had gripped Flynn’s shoulder. 

On the way she laughed at the terrible joke of one of the actors, the sound making Flynn’s stomach tingle even as he shook his head at the joke. 

On the way she kept seeking Flynn’s attention, her eyes sparkling with mirth. No matter how much Eve grumbled at time travel, exhilaration about them being here and experiencing all of this showed clearly in her expression. Having her so close and enjoying her company helped distract him from a lot of things. 

The two hours passed quickly despite there not being anything interesting to do. Eve excused them from Shakespeare’s presence, and they walked out into the garden together. 

Flynn tried to judge how much longer he could wait before starting to catch Eve up on Moriarty’s findings. Hedging would give him away immediately, she knew him too well. Luckily, Eve didn’t want to talk, either, so he could keep his mouth shut. They walked in companionable silence. Well, he hoped it seemed companionable to Eve. Waiting this long to tell her was already making him fidgety. 

Flynn timed it so they had a minute to their meeting place, before he got right to the point. “So… Moriarty found the Lost Play.”

Eve raised her eyebrow at him and shrugged, which he took to mean she didn’t know what he was talking about. 

“Really? You’ve never heard of The Lost Play? ‘Love’s Labour’s Won’? I thought you played Lady Macbeth?” 

“I did one Shakespeare play. In high school.” She pointed both hands at herself, “Not a scholar, here.”

“Some few references to the play exist, but the script was not in any of the collections that survived. Nobody knows, no, nobody before us knew, “ he corrected himself, unable to stop the grin spreading across his face, “whether the Lost Play really existed. Not even the Library.”

“Okay. So the Lost Play exists. And that makes you happy.”

Not only that. The way she was grinning cheekily at him was making him happy, too. He was about to say so when they were interrupted.

They both turned in surprise as Moriarty stepped out from behind a tree, bowing slightly in his old-fashioned way, “Our situation provides us with a unique opportunity to preserve the play for the future.”

“Ah.” Eve looked between the two of them. “I see. Knowing it exists isn’t enough for you.”

Flynn grinned. She may not be a scholar, but she was always quick on the uptake. “Yes. We want to get it and copy it and take it to the Library.”

“Not the Library,” Moriarty frowned at Flynn, “the public.”

“Well, okay, yes, the public, too. We’ll find a way to make it appear somewhere once we get back to the future.” _If we get back to the future._ “But the first thing we have to do is get it to the Library. It will keep there until we can release it to the public. And it will properly age there, too.”

Moriarty’s look changed to one of satisfaction and he nodded appreciatively. Flynn couldn’t help the warmth spreading in his gut, but he tried not to think about it too hard. He couldn’t let anything distract him right now. They still had Eve to convince. She wouldn’t take long to object, he was sure.

In that moment, they heard voices in the garden. Eve snapped out of her pensive posture, grabbed both of them by the arms and pulled them along off the path. There were some dense bushes nearby behind which they could easily hide.

Flynn considered the fact that he was crouching behind greenery the second time today already. At least this was a better place to hide than the rose garden. 

When the air was clear again, Eve stepped back out onto the path and continued right where she’d left off. “For the record: this is not part of our mission. And I don’t like going off-mission.” 

Flynn and Moriarty nodded at her. They’d both known she was going to say that.

“That said, I don’t think I can convince you not to do it. You look determined.” 

Flynn preened. Yes, determined. That’s what he looked like. He tried to do it justice and nodded sternly as Eve looked back and forth between them.

“I have to admit, I don’t think it’s completely worthless, either. But wouldn’t stealing it change history?”

“No,” Flynn smiled. “That’s the beauty of it. It is lost, it has always been lost, it stays lost. If the Library keeps it hidden until our time, history never changes.”

“Do you already have an idea how to get it? How will you copy it once you have it?”

“Oh, getting it is child’s play,” Moriarty said. “We know where it is, and the props wagons are not guarded at night.”

“What? You want to break in to get it?” Eve huffed. “Why not simply ask Shakespeare for a copy?”

“Ah, but it’s his intellectual property,” Flynn pointed out. He hated to admit it, but the villain’s first idea was the most practical, for once. “The play is worth a lot to Shakespeare. He’d never share it with us.”

“We might be able to buy it from him,” Eve suggested.

Flynn shook his head. “We definitely didn’t bring enough money for that. If he’d even consider selling, which I very much doubt.” 

Moriarty laughed, “Consider the irony of stealing money instead of stealing a play.”

“No. No stealing.” Eve crossed her arms in front of her chest and planted her feet. “We will only borrow the play to copy it.”

Flynn nodded. “Yes.” 

This was going quite well. Cornering her together had definitely been the right decision, and Moriarty was playing all his cards right, too. 

Flynn hesitated. “We didn’t bring any phones or cameras, though. So we’d have to copy it by hand. I have no idea how long that would take.”

“Depending on the length of the script, I think it will take me two to four hours to transcribe,” Moriarty answered confidently.

Flynn doubted that, even if Moriarty had a lot of practice writing with old-fashioned implements. But it really didn’t matter how long they kept the play. Nobody would miss it, Flynn was willing to bet on that. 

“Okay, that leaves us with the paper and ink.”

Moriarty had an answer for that, too: “Why not ask Shakespeare for that? You could pretend to be writing a play yourself.”

Eve shrugged. “That’s innocent enough. He might go for that.”

“And it’s not even an outright lie. We will be writing a play!” Flynn laughed. 

“Yeah, very funny.” Eve’s grimace made Flynn laugh even harder. She sighed again, but Flynn knew they had her. She was already planning the details, not fighting them on the big issue anymore. His excitement finally broke through. He couldn’t help himself, he slung his arms around Eve’s waist, pulling her towards him and turning in a circle, lifting her right off the ground.

She still looked somewhat exasperated when he set her down, but there was no denying the smile that played across her lips. He took her hands and twirled her around, and she didn’t resist that, either. Moriarty was looking on in an obviously disparaging frown, so Flynn twirled Eve again for good measure.

“Okay okay, I get it, you’re happy,” Eve was laughing now, too. “We’re really going to do this.”

Flynn bounced on his heels eagerly. He stepped back but kept Eve’s hand in his, smiling at her. They both turned to Moriarty, whose frown was fading into a blank expression. He acknowledged Eve’s words with a nod. 

Flynn indicated with a gesture that Eve should go ahead with the planning. She was the strategist in their team, after all.

She didn’t need to be told twice. “We’ve seen that the actors are mostly nocturnal, right? And they are planning a performance tonight, which we were planning on seeing,” she gestured between Flynn and herself. “I don’t think we want to skip that?”

“No! I want to see it. The props wagons are going to be bustling with activity all night, too, whether we’re watching the play or not.”

“Good point. So we can either wait until everyone’s asleep, or simply plan for tomorrow morning.”

Moriarty spoke up, “I estimate our chances to be best in the early morning when the actors are asleep. The morning fog will obscure our movements, even in case any of the household servants wake up early.”

“Not to mention that waiting until everyone’s asleep amounts to tomorrow morning, anyway,” Flynn said.

So they agreed to meet again at five a.m. behind the hedge next to the props wagons. At least they’d beat the morning bell that way.

“One more thing,” Eve added when they were about to part ways, “just so that’s clear: if Prospero shows up tonight, the play has to wait.” 

\---

The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Flynn couldn’t keep his mind off the play. He imagined holding the sheafs of thick paper in his hands, and marveling at Shakespeare’s brilliant turns of phrase. He didn’t particularly look forward to ducking behind hedges, but the annoyance barely registered amidst his excitement. 

Luckily, Eve was less absent-minded than Flynn. She managed to wheedle a pot of ink and some sheets of paper out of Shakespeare, who was busy with the preparations for the play of the night and not in the mood to argue. They didn’t have enough paper to make their copy look like an original play, but they could always transcribe it again. As long as they had the words on the page.

\---

The play they were showing was “As You Like It”, and it started around sunset. There were some chairs, but only for the “important” people at Milton House. Everyone else had to stand or sit on the ground. Flynn and Eve kept to the edge of the crowd of spectators when the play started. They could see the stage well, but Eve made sure they had freedom of movement in case Prospero showed up.

Flynn was soon completely absorbed in the action onstage. He was especially surprised that Shakespeare was one of the actors. Flynn found himself following his every move. He had a way of owning the stage that entranced the audience. The dialogue was hard to understand in places, and Eve asked him about details several times. Flynn just loved it and happily translated for Eve. She wasn’t as focused on the play as he was, which was probably for the best. She could be trusted to keep their tactical situation in hand. Of course, he needn’t have worried about that. Nothing happened all night. Again.

During the act break, Flynn wondered idly if the time machine really had deposited them where it was supposed to. Maybe it had not only broken after their journey to the past, but on the way. He dismissed the thought again quickly, though. It was more likely that he had miscalculated Prospero’s first appearance. He reminded himself that Shakespeare’s magic pen very likely meant they were in the right place at the right time. They just needed a little more patience. 

Flynn was self-aware enough to know that patience wasn’t one of his strengths. But it wasn’t like he was bored here yet. Being in Shakespeare’s presence was its own reward. They’d wait as long as it took, they’d rescue the Lost Play, and then they’d defeat Prospero. And then they’d worry about getting home. All things in their time. He smiled at his own pun and clapped along with the rest of the audience when the curtain opened for the last act.


	6. For it depends upon that love of thine

_‘And life no longer than thy love will stay,  
For it depends upon that love of thine.’_

\--- 

Flynn and Eve finally made their way back to their room a little after midnight. Flynn wasn’t looking forward to getting up at 5 a.m. again, but he was too tired to complain. Plus, he knew that Eve would just tell him to forget about the Lost Play if he was too lazy to get up for it in the morning, so he just sighed and didn’t bother saying anything.

Eve had just pushed open the door to their room when she tensed and rushed inside. Flynn heard Moriarty start, “Don’t be alarmed…” and then only a groan. 

By the time Flynn stuck his head around the door, Eve was just letting go of a coughing Moriarty. “I’m sorry, James. I didn’t recognize you in the dark.” She took a step back from the bed where Moriarty was sitting and trying to get his breath back.

Flynn hurried to close the door behind him. “What are you doing here?” 

Moriarty took his time answering. Flynn’s eyes were slowly getting used to the moonlight, but he couldn’t see any details in Moriarty’s face yet.

Moriarty finally got up and spoke. “I think it is too dangerous for me to be out on my own during the night.”

“What? Outside?” Eve asked. “Has someone recognized you? Are they coming?”

Moriarty spread his arms in a calming gesture. “No, nothing of the sort. I am not afraid of anyone catching me.”

“Then what’s the problem? What danger is there?”

Moriarty shot Flynn a look. “Have you talked about what we found out this morning, Flynn?” 

“Oh! It’s happening again?” Flynn blurted out, his brain starting to rearrange the facts. That kind of danger! “That’s… but... the energy…” Flynn frowned. If Moriarty was getting weaker again, it meant… 

“What is happening again?” Eve looked between the two of them, exasperated. “Talk sense, guys!” She looked between them and apparently decided Moriarty was more likely to tell her. “What are you talking about?”

“I believe that I am going to run out of energy again tonight if I stay outside. I have seen what happens and I’d rather not repeat the experience.”

“The experience being…?” Eve waved her hands for him to elaborate.

Moriarty hesitated, so Flynn offered, “When I found him this morning, he was in bad shape. But he regenerated quickly once I, um. I held his hand. We think there’s some kind of magical connection between us.” He felt his face heat. “Not just between the two of us. Between you as well.” He gestured between Eve and Moriarty. “I think it happens when you touch him, too.”

“Yes, I…,” Eve cleared her throat, “you think it’s a magical connection? And you only think to tell me about that now?” 

Flynn immediately argued, “I thought it was all still related to what happened last night. He was… his energy was depleted. I think he needs magical energy to exist. And he used it all up last night by appearing here. It refilled again when you held his hand. I just thought we’d let him go too early before his energy levels were high enough again, and that’s why he was in such bad shape this morning.” Flynn turned to Moriarty. “But that’s not it, is it? It’s happening again tonight. You didn’t do anything energy-intensive like beam yourself around, did you?”

“I did not.” Moriarty stared at Flynn disapprovingly.

“Okay,” Eve said. “Let’s say your energy, whatever it is exactly, is too low. But do you have any idea what’s causing it?”

“I have a theory.”

Flynn waved his hand impatiently at Moriarty. “Let’s hear it. I’m good with theories.” 

“I have accumulated evidence that my energy keeps stable while I am near one of you. It feels stronger when you touch me. Strongest when you… look at me.”

Flynn heard what he wasn’t saying. The hairs on his arms stood on end. When he had been close to Moriarty, looked into his eyes, felt his breath on his face, the flow had surged. More than when they’d touched. No need to get into that right now and alert Eve, though. The other facts were interesting enough. He forced himself to look at Eve, not at Moriarty.

She looked back and forth between them and Flynn could see the cogs turn in her head. “So you are getting weaker right now?”

“Yes, I was, until I came here. It seems stable now.”

“Okay,” Eve added. “How dangerous do you think it is? Do you think you will die if you… stay away?”

“Possibly. I had previously thought that I cannot die. But I would rather not find out. It has occurred to me that my story has not yet been written. That may have a negative influence.”

“Right! That makes perfect sense!” Flynn couldn’t stop himself from cutting in, “Eve and I are the only two persons in the world right now who know your story. We’re the only ones who know you exist. Have you tried touching other people?”

Moriarty fidgeted. “I have. It had no effect.”

A strange echo of jealousy pulsed through Flynn and he blinked a few times. Since when did he care who Moriarty did or didn’t touch? But he couldn’t mind that right now, he was on the right track. “Yes, that fits. As long as we know you exist, you will keep on existing.”

Moriarty nodded. “That seems to be the most likely explanation.”

“But,” Eve objected, “we always know you exist.”

Flynn nodded. “Yes, but since there are just two of us, maybe that alone doesn’t generate enough magical energy to sustain him, unless we’re actively thinking about him. I know I only thought about the play all night. He never even crossed my mind.” Which had been a nice, relaxing change of pace, now that he thought about it. Of course, with that very thought, the whole knot of emotions settled in Flynn’s stomach again. He had to clear his throat before he could go on, “But if he’s here, in this room with us, we can’t help but acknowledge his presence.”

Eve looked at Flynn. He looked back, waiting for her to understand. Until it dawned on him that she was waiting for something, too. 

Oh. They’d just come to the conclusion that Moriarty needed to spend the night in their room, hadn’t they? 

His hands turned hot and cold in quick succession. Flynn wasn’t ready to share. He’d come to like the room, it was his and Eve’s. He felt safe there. He was about to argue, but he couldn’t help seeing the Moriarty from this morning before his inner eye, a pitiful sight, hunched in on himself and almost unable to move.

Flynn knew with a painful certainty that Moriarty was going to suffer — and maybe even die — if they sent him away now. Moriarty hadn’t mentioned to Eve in how much pain he’d been, but Flynn remembered. He couldn’t in good conscience be the cause of that.

Eve still seemed to be waiting for Flynn’s decision. At last, Flynn nodded. “Okay.”

Eve translated their wordless exchange. “You can stay.”

If Moriarty was confused about their decision-making process, he didn’t give any sign of it. “I’ll stay right here then.”

“What? Just… standing there?” Eve asked.

“I don’t require sleep or a comfortable position. You can go back to sleep.”

Flynn didn’t feel at ease with the thought of Moriarty standing in front of the bed, still as a statue, or a robot, watching them all night. But he couldn’t come up with a better solution on short notice, so he just shrugged and clambered back into bed. Putting some distance between him and Moriarty was the best he could do. Eve went to close the shutters, fighting with the window latch in the dark for a minute and cursing softly until it was shut tight again. 

She must have run into Moriarty on the way back to the bed, because both of them started apologizing and Moriarty moved toward the wall, getting out of the way. She closed the curtains on the bed again. It was less weird than Flynn would have thought. Moriarty didn’t breathe creepily or otherwise alert them to his presence, so Flynn could pretend he wasn’t there. The only strange thing was that when he wished Eve a good night, Moriarty answered as well.

They settled down to sleep again. Eve nestled comfortably into him and he slung his arm around her. Flynn had just been about to drift off when Eve let out an annoyed breath. 

“This is ridiculous. You can’t just stand there all night. I can’t sleep with you being uncomfortably standing the whole time.”

“It does not bother me,” Moriarty replied, his voice muffled through the curtain.

“But it bothers me, okay?” Eve huffed. “Is it even working? How can we think of you when we’re sleeping?”

Flynn really didn’t want to think too hard about that, so he just ignored the answers flitting through his brain and focused on Eve’s first question. “Um, you mean it could still not be enough? Moriarty, what’s your estimation?”

“It is stable right now. But neither of you is asleep yet. And... I may need some reserves for tomorrow.”

And touching worked better than proximity. Flynn sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He knew where this was leading, but he was too tired to argue. 

“Okay, I’m deciding this now.” Eve’s tone brooked no argument. “Flynn, James is coming in here.”

Yep, that’s where this was leading. “So what, you’re going to hold his hand all night?” He didn’t want them touching. But he was not touching Moriarty, either, or he would never be able to sleep.

Eve let out another annoyed breath, but Moriarty chimed in, unbidden, “No need to get petty. There is room at the foot end. Is it acceptable for you if I sit there? I will not take up more space than absolutely necessary.”

Flynn rubbed his eyes. Was nobody thinking of his feelings? Just because Eve thought it was unfair, he now had to share a bed with Moriarty. But the foot end was the least offensive option. This way he could maybe kick Moriarty in his sleep. The thought put a smile on his face. He reached for Eve’s hand as they waited for Moriarty to take off his boots and jacket... and hopefully nothing else.

When Moriarty was settled with his back against the wall and his still fully-clad legs stretched out at the edge of the bed, Flynn turned back around to get some sleep, finally. 

Flynn made sure his feet weren’t quite touching Moriarty. He had to bend his legs slightly more than before, but it wasn’t actually that uncomfortable, he had to admit. The bed was noticeably depressed by Moriarty’s weight. That would definitely serve as a subconscious reminder that he was there, hopefully increasing the energy flow without the need of any actual touching. That was fine in Flynn’s book.

In any case, Flynn was way too tired to let anything unsettle him anymore, not even an arrangement as strange as this. He fell asleep soon after.


	7. Let him but copy what in you is writ

_‘Let him but copy what in you is writ’_

\--- 

Flynn’s night wasn’t very comfortable. He didn’t wake, but he had ridiculously exhausting dreams. He dreamt he was stuck in a swamp, being pursued by a yeti in a black tux, unable to run away. He was skydiving tied to Eve with a bungee cord, which entangled with their parachute so they hit the ocean and almost drowned. He dreamt that the three of them were standing in a circle, all of them holding a pile of paper together, the Lost Play, when a maw opened beneath them and pulled the pages out of their hands, a swirling time hurricane that threatened to swallow them all. It was all they could do to hold onto each other, and it took all their combined strength not to get sucked in, too.

Flynn surfaced from sleep groggy and sore. Pale morning light was seeping through a gap in the curtain. It was definitely earlier than he’d woken on other nights. He remembered that Eve had set her alarm for 5 a.m., and he hadn’t heard it go off. Judging from the light of the approaching dawn, it couldn’t be that long until 5.

He shifted a little to stretch his legs, but immediately froze. Moriarty’s arms were wrapped around his left leg like tentacles. Flynn’s pant leg was pushed up to his knee and Moriarty held onto his shin, pressing Flynn’s leg against his body. Moriarty was taking up a lot more space at the foot end of the bed between Eve and Flynn than he had last night. He was curled around Flynn’s feet, his head about at Flynn’s thigh level. His face was relaxed as if deeply asleep. Flynn shook his leg to dislodge Moriarty’s arms and almost smiled at the reaction: Moriarty whined in protest, tightening his grip, but didn’t seem to wake. 

Ha. So much for not needing to sleep and not needing creature comforts. In fact, this was a lot more creature comfort than Flynn was ready to share. But Moriarty looked less intimidating asleep. Less aggravating, too. He reminded Flynn of a cat, curled up as he was. A very large cat, maybe a tiger.

Tingles ran all over his body. Flynn shook himself. Not that again. 

He turned to look at Eve, who seemed to be in the process of waking, too. Being turned on by her sweet, sleepy expression was a lot easier to handle, so he watched her instead and let the warm feeling spread through his body willingly. Eve yawned and stretched lazily before she opened her eyes and blinked at him. If he hadn’t already been hard, her smile would have done it for sure. 

She leaned over to give him a kiss, but apparently rolled against Moriarty on the way, and shrank back, surprised. Moriarty shifted slightly but still didn’t seem to wake up.

Eve leaned up on her elbows to get a better look: “Is he hugging your legs?”

Flynn blushed and nodded, smiling apologetically.

Eve smiled back and bent over to kiss him again, this time making sure to leave enough space between them so as not to wake Moriarty.

“Hey,” Eve whispered, rubbing her nose against his, “are you okay?”

“Yeah. Didn’t sleep too well, but otherwise fine. I think he held onto me all night.”

Eve’s smile got wider. “As long as he’s still asleep: is this okay with you? I know this isn’t what we signed up for when we allowed him to stay with us last night.”

Flynn considered the question. He was maybe a little more lenient than usual, it being early morning and him feeling lazy and warm, but he found he was actually quite comfortable. Maybe it was just the hum of arousal making him this positive, but for now… “Surprisingly, yes. Let’s just enjoy that we’re ‘alone’ for a few more minutes.”

Eve gave him a small peck on the lips in agreement and leaned her forehead against his. He loved waking up with her, it was the best part of the day. He hadn’t expected to get to enjoy that today, what with Moriarty here and the night being so short, but he decided to make the absolute best of it. Eve couldn’t snuggle into him as usual, but she lifted her hand to his hair and stroked it slowly, just the way he liked it. They exchanged small kisses for a while.

It was surprisingly easy to do this right under Moriarty’s nose. But then Flynn had always been good at adjusting to new situations. He smiled into the kiss and Eve smiled back. 

A few minutes later, Eve’s alarm rang. Moriarty shot upright with a surprised exclamation. Flynn and Eve parted at the interruption, Flynn’s cheeks now heating after all. Flynn tried to tamp down on his embarrassment. He was allowed to kiss Eve, even (and maybe especially) with Moriarty watching. It turned out Flynn needn’t have worried. Moriarty wasn’t even looking, he was staring around the room wearing a confused expression. Red spots on his cheeks clearly showed his own embarrassment.

"Aha! Everyone's awake!" Eve announced, her voice forcedly casual, as she turned over to stop the alarm. She opened and fastened the curtain at her corner before she got up to stow the watch in her pouch. Cold air flowed in from the rest of the room, helping Flynn to wake up the rest of the way. 

He couldn't help grinning at Moriarty, who rubbed his eyes and surreptitiously tried to make sense of the situation. It really looked like he had never in his life known sleep, and it unsettled him. Flynn was tempted to stick his finger in the wound, but on the other hand he was way too mellow to actually do it. He just kept grinning as he sat up and stretched his arms.

Eve got the shutters open. Fine tendrils of fog drifted over the windowsill, the cold making her shiver. She quickly closed the window again and rubbed her hands together. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the grey pre-dawn light was already good enough to see by. The morning bell would wake the household in an hour, so that was all the time they had. 

The thought of getting the Lost Play propelled Flynn forward. He pushed himself out of bed, ignoring Moriarty, and stuck his feet back into the woefully small shoes. He reached over to the bedside table for his pouch, and got up to fasten it to his pants. Stretching one last time, he straightened his linen shirt. His clothes were too thin for early-morning escapades like that, but they didn’t have anything warmer. Flynn rubbed his hand across his chin, but shaving would have to wait.

When he turned back around, Eve was already standing near the door, ready to go. Moriarty’s ears were still red, but he looked otherwise composed as he finished lacing up his shoes.

Eve used that last minute to remind them of their plan. Then they filed out of the room quietly. 

They didn’t talk at all until they were out of the inn, and even then they only whispered. The fog made the courtyard look smaller than it was. They crossed it carefully, trying not to make any noise on the flagstones. As expected, nobody was around. 

Eve hung back on the corner towards the inn, as Moriarty and Flynn approached the props wagons. Moriarty had convinced them that he should be the one to use Flynn’s lockpick, since he had practiced it with that lock already. 

Flynn had to admit Moriarty was quite handy with it. It didn’t take him long to pick the lock. He held the door open for Flynn, who stepped inside and waited for Moriarty to close the door again. 

Once Flynn was alone in the now completely dark interior, he clicked on his flashlight. This time he tried to open the drawer more carefully than the last time. It still creaked loudly. Flynn was glad they’d considered that in their planning and closed the door of the wagon. The drawer contained several piles of paper. Some were loose, but most were bound with a leather strap around a folded piece of leather. He had to tease each one open to see the title. 

The fourth try was the lucky one. Flynn’s hands started shaking once he realized that this was it. He’d found it!

He closed the drawer again and turned off his flashlight before knocking lightly on the door to alert Moriarty. The door swung open immediately. Flynn hopped right down the stairs, leaving it to Moriarty to lock the wagon again. He jogged over to Eve, brandishing the script proudly. 

Eve grabbed his hand, grinning from ear to ear. They ran back to the inn together, soon closely followed by Moriarty. They were slightly less careful about not making any noise than on the way out. The morning had gotten quite a bit brighter. Sunrise was tinting the clouds pink, but the court was still shady and damp with fog. Luckily, nobody heard them. They didn’t see anybody, either. 

Eve held open their room door, shutting it after both Flynn and Moriarty had come in. She looked at them for a few endless seconds and suddenly the tension exploded. Flynn jumped up and down, “We did it, we did it!” He tried to whisper instead of shouting at the top of his lungs, but he probably wasn’t very successful. Eve took a long step towards him and he slung his free arm around her shoulder. Somehow, Moriarty ended up on his other side, and they jumped in a circle like children. 

The room was way too small for three people careening around, so it was no surprise they ended up bouncing off the little table. Flynn lost his balance and they all toppled over into the bed. Flynn was half afraid it would break and they’d be buried under boards and curtains, but they just sank deep into the mattress. The frame bumped against the wall, creaking loudly. Flynn landed on his back, hunched around the play which he pressed safely to his chest. The other two fell half on top of him. Eve let out an uncharacteristic shriek. Moriarty put a finger to Eve’s lips with an exaggerated shushing noise. 

Flynn saw the moment Eve’s eyes widened and the atmosphere changed. He watched, unable to move, how Moriarty let his hand slide to the side of her face, cupping her cheek.

With a tilt of his head, Moriarty asked Eve: “May I kiss you?” 

Eve looked at Flynn, for permission, or reassurance, and he couldn’t give either. Moriarty leaned across Flynn, slowly enough that Flynn could have protested, but his mind was caught between ‘you’re mine’, and ‘I’m yours’, and ‘I almost kissed him yesterday’. No coherent words formed.

Eve didn’t pull back, she even leaned forward a little. Now Flynn’s eyes widened as Moriarty’s lips touched Eve’s and he heard her gasp. Flynn had seen them kiss before, but this was… completely different.

“Uh…,” Flynn managed. He didn’t even know if he was complaining or just feeling left out.

Eve went bright red and pulled away, avoiding his gaze, but Moriarty simply turned to look at Flynn. Letting his hand sink slowly from Eve’s face, he tilted his head at Flynn just like he had at Eve. He didn’t need to repeat his question. 

Moriarty came closer and Flynn’s heart started hammering against his chest. He couldn’t take his eyes off the way Moriarty’s lip glistened wetly until it was too close to focus on. Flynn’s eyes fluttered closed and his whole body started trembling. It felt like another minute until Moriarty’s lips finally touched his, but when they did, the contact ran through Flynn like lightning. 

Before Flynn could do more than register wet and warm, Moriarty’s lips were gone again.

Flynn’s eyes flew open to the sight of Moriarty looking at them both. ‘He’s kissed me exactly like he’s kissed her!’ 

Moriarty’s expression was unreadable, but Eve looked as shell-shocked as Flynn felt. He was sure his face was as red as hers, too. He couldn’t move, or even think. His mind was blank and his lips tingled.

“Come here,” Eve whispered, and pulled Flynn towards her. She kissed him just the way she’d just been looking at him. Her lips were tentative and jittery, and her hand gripped Flynn’s neck tightly. Flynn had no idea what to feel anymore. He wanted to reassure Eve, but he couldn’t put anything intentional into the kiss, trembling as he was. So he just hung on and kissed her back, hoping she’d understand that he still loved her. 

He loved her, of course he did. That thought helped. He relaxed a bit and hugged Eve close with the arm that was still around her. He rubbed his hand across her back as best he could from his position. Eve sighed into the kiss, her hand on Flynn’s neck relaxing, too.

“At least give me the play so I can start the transcription.”

Flynn and Eve jerked apart at Moriarty’s voice. Blood rushed to Flynn’s face, but he didn’t let go of Eve. His thoughts were still bouncing around in his head like ping pong balls, but he felt a lot less lost now with Eve next to him.

He cleared his throat and held onto the first coherent thought. “Yes, the play.” He looked at the leather bundle in his hand, but he didn’t want to give it away. He wanted to open it and look at it.

Eve asked, “Is it even the right play?”

“Of course it is. I’ll show you.”

Flynn motioned at them to give him some room so he could push himself up into a sitting position. Eve moved only far enough so he could sit up and pull out his arm from around her, and then glued herself back to his side. He leaned back against the curtain at the wall and settled the play on his lap. After unknotting the band with clumsy fingers, he peeled back the leather enveloping the pile of paper. 

The title “Loves Labors Won” spanned the whole width of the first page, the L’s intertwining in scrolls and flourishes with the W. 

Moriarty carefully put his hand on the sheet. Flynn couldn’t resist, either. The paper felt smooth under his hand. He let his index finger trace reverently along the curled lines. 

He couldn’t help watch the movement of Moriarty’s hand as Moriarty drew his fingers down the side of the page in a caressing motion. Even Eve put her fingers on a corner and tilted her head to read the title.

“Yes, that looks like the right one, all right,” she said, smiling.

Flynn turned the first page and began to read.

Soon, Moriarty and Flynn were reading the play aloud to each other. Eve didn’t manage to read it quickly enough, so she let them have their fun with it. But she listened. Sometimes she asked what a phrase meant, which convinced Flynn that she was just as fascinated by their discovery as they were. 

Flynn wondered at how comfortable he felt now, and how they’d gotten to this point. Tiny sparks ran down his legs at the thought and he was intensely aware that his and Moriarty’s sides were touching all the way from shoulder to leg. It felt good to be wedged between Moriarty and Eve like this, he couldn’t deny it. 

It was probably due to the excitement from holding the play in his hands. They were all looking at the play, not at each other, which made it a lot easier. They kept bumping elbows whenever Flynn turned a page and Moriarty added it to the growing pile on his own lap. Eve was warm against Flynn’s other side, her legs propped up and one of her knees falling across Flynn’s leg. It was pretty cozy.

The play was fascinating, even though it couldn’t be called Shakespeare’s best work. The plot was predictable, but funny in places. A few times, Moriarty and Flynn were unsure of the meaning of a particular word or phrase. Sometimes it was difficult to tell if a word was barely legible due to bad penmanship or unusual spelling, so they started arguing with each other. Most of the time, Eve took Moriarty’s side, stating that he was “the more classical” of the two. But she playfully nudged Flynn’s shoulder, so he was sure she wasn’t really doubting his scholarly knowledge. Flynn had to admit that Moriarty had adequate reasoning skills, so he couldn’t easily dismiss Moriarty’s opinion, either.

Somehow, the arguments never turned hostile, contrary to what Flynn would have expected from Moriarty. But he had to admit that he himself was in an extraordinarily good mood due to their discovery of the play. Surely Moriarty felt the same. Maybe it was not such a big surprise they got along this time.

When Flynn had finished reading the closing soliloquy and moved the last page onto Moriarty’s pile, he almost wanted to start right over. This time, they wouldn’t need to get into arguments. They’d already know every word, and it would flow like a proper play.

But Moriarty straightened the pile and moved to get up off the bed. “I will start transcribing it right away. The sooner we return it to its place, the better.”

Flynn couldn’t argue with that. Eve just yawned, waving at Moriarty to go ahead, and flopped over onto her side. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

Flynn checked his watch - it was shortly past 8 a.m. He’d totally lost track of time during their reading of the play. He didn’t really feel like going outside alone. The actors wouldn’t get up before lunchtime anyway. 

He watched as Moriarty readied his pen and paper. Since they didn’t have a chair in their room, he’d settled himself on the floor, the papers arranged neatly around him. Moriarty was soon focused on his work. He reminded Flynn of a large black cat again, all long sleek lines, stretching forward over the page he was transcribing. There really wasn’t anything to do for Flynn, and he yawned. It was no wonder, he hadn’t had the most relaxing night of sleep. He cuddled up to Eve, wrapping his arm around her, and closed his eyes, too.


	8. In disgrace with fortune

_‘When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes  
I all alone beweep my outcast state’_

\--- 

Both Flynn and Eve shot up from sleep when the door to their room was thrust open. Flynn’s first muddled thought was, _‘Can I never get a bit of sleep undisturbed around here?’_ as the innkeeper came in, wringing her hands and looking apologetic. Until she looked at the bed, that is, then her eyes widened comically. Flynn’s eyes followed hers and found Moriarty leaning against the bed at their feet. He’d apparently finished his work. The play was no longer spread out on the floor. But Flynn didn’t have time to dwell on that, since at that moment, six armed guards trooped into their room after the innkeeper. 

Eve had already jumped up and charged at the first one through the door before Flynn could blink, and worse, before she could realize there were too many of them to fight. She got a good kick in before they crowded around her in the tiny room, but then one of them struck her over the head with the hilt of a sword, and she went down. Flynn’s initial shock turned into panic. 

“Eve!” Flynn jumped up, or he tried, but Moriarty was standing now, too, and held him back. He whispered urgently into Flynn’s ear, “Don’t! We need to stay calm.”

It took all of Flynn’s restraint to follow Moriarty’s undoubtedly reasonable advice. He managed to go still and tried to see Eve behind the guards’ legs. She was lying on the floor, moaning and clutching at her head. At least she wasn’t unconscious, but he couldn’t tell if she was bleeding or gravely injured.

“How dare you storm into our room?” Moriarty snapped at the guards, which confused Flynn for a second. _‘Since when was this Moriarty’s room?’_ But then he caught on. Of course it didn’t matter what Moriarty said as long as he seemed authoritative and distracted the guards. 

“Yes! How dare you?” Flynn nodded along. Maybe they would still have a chance to run.

The head guard towered over them. “You are all accused of being spies against the crown.” There was a slight wheeze in his voice. “And you,” the guard pointed at Moriarty, “are accused of attempted murder.”

“What? Spies?” Flynn stood, feigning surprise. There wasn’t much room to move, but he tried edging in Eve’s direction. His eyes fell on the small bedside table. There were the two drawstring bags, his and Eve’s, and next to them the play - original and copy. Flynn hesitated. With a look at Eve, who was still quietly moaning, he decided that it was paramount to take his bag with him. Not to mention that it contained a lot of anachronistic things he couldn’t let anyone here find unless they wanted to be accused of sorcery, too. He shuffled a bit to the side.

The guard gave him a look that clearly said listening to Flynn was beneath him, but Moriarty was still playing along, looking indignant while carefully avoiding any aggressive movements. “Spies! That accusation is preposterous. I am the King’s loyal subject!”

Flynn turned slowly, while the guards were all looking at Moriarty, and swiped up the bags behind his back. The only unobtrusive thing he could do with them was stick them into the back of his pants, but at least he had them. He quickly thought over their contents and whether they could help them flee, but there was nothing that came to mind. With Eve immobilized, their chances were slim anyway. 

There wasn’t really anything they could do against being ushered into the middle of the group of guards. Flynn and Moriarty pulled Eve up and kept her between them, helping her walk as they were marched out of their room. She felt shaky to Flynn, and her steps were unsure. The guards stopped in the inn’s common room.

Flynn took the opportunity to check over Eve’s head again in the relatively better light of the inn. There was no blood, thankfully, but there also was no fight in her eyes. In fact, she seemed largely unaware of what was going on around her and her breathing was labored. Flynn was pretty sure she had a bad concussion. 

Flynn looked up when the guards parted before him. The first thing he saw was a small boy of maybe ten years standing directly in front of them. The rest of the inn was almost empty, but the few morning patrons who were there were all staring. The boy looked between Flynn and Moriarty and almost jumped up and down in agitation: “Yes, that’s them! Them I saw sneak through the bushes yesterday!”

“Well done, lad,” the guard acknowledged him, and the boy beamed. Before Flynn even had time to think about escape strategies, the guards closed around them again and started walking. Flynn barely avoided a jab in the ribs, jumping forward to keep pace. 

Eve moaned again at being moved, but she still didn’t seem to be all there, mumbling “What’s happening?” and trying to move away. They were easily able to hold her steady, though. Moriarty started talking soothingly to her in a low voice, which seemed to calm her.

Flynn was really starting to get worried now. He whispered at Moriarty, “Ideas?” but got only a grunt and a shake of the head in return. Flynn kept whispering, “We have to help her first, but I can’t reach my things,” he tried motioning to his pants, before he realized how unlikely it was that Moriarty could even see it. 

“Wait,” Moriarty murmured, “the guards are too close to us. Once they give us some room, you hold onto Eve.”

Flynn could barely hear him, but once he’d parsed what Moriarty had said, he gave him a quick nod. All his instincts were screaming at him to get away, and he didn’t want to let Moriarty run off on his own. But he also knew there was no way he was leaving Eve behind. He almost jumped out of his skin with the urge to do something useful. The guards were doing their job well, though, and no opportunity presented itself. 

Flynn kept scanning their surroundings for a chance to escape as they were marched across the road to Milton House. Their odds were best while they were outside. Flynn readied himself for it when they approached the door. Unfortunately, it swung open before they got there. The guards barely even slowed, ushering them inside without missing a beat. Flynn was gritting his teeth at the missed chance. 

A man Flynn assumed was the steward led them along a corridor and then down some stairs. Eve had been okay on even ground, but walking down the stairs made her hunch over again in pain. Flynn winced at her every sound. 

He hoisted her closer, and Moriarty adjusted his grip as well, pulling her arm over his tall frame. They were almost carrying her now, her feet just brushing against some of the stairs instead of walking. It seemed to be better for Eve, though. Flynn concentrated on keeping the jostling to a minimum. 

He was so focused on her that he didn’t notice the guards parting around them. Flynn and Moriarty had slowed unconsciously, but it was too late already. They had walked into a wine cellar, and Flynn only realized it was a dead end when the guards were filing out the door behind them.

Flynn and Moriarty tried to turn, but in different directions, and Moriarty let out a stream of old-fashioned curse words. By the time they’d coordinated their movements and lurched back towards the door, it was already slamming in their faces. The sound echoed back from the large wine racks and cellar walls around them. 

They were alone. 

At least it wasn’t dark. Daylight came in through three flat windows set at the edge between one of the walls and the low ceiling. Unfortunately, they were barred and too small to be useful for escape.

Eve moaned again from being hauled around, and her arm tightened around Flynn’s shoulder. Moriarty and Flynn exchanged a worried look and worked together to let Eve sit down against a wall. They both crouched in front of her on the cold ground. Flynn checked her eyes and head, properly this time, while Moriarty looked on critically.

There was a large lump on the back of her head. Eve opened her eyes when he asked her to, but they didn’t focus properly on him. Not good. 

Moriarty’s hand gripped Flynn’s elbow and made Flynn look over. Moriarty didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said everything. 

Moriarty didn’t know yet that they were in luck: Flynn had brought some Oil of Bathsheba with him. Well, it wasn’t luck. Eve had insisted on it being part of their Librarian Emergency Packs. She had made all of them carry a few drops with them on missions. Flynn just felt lucky that she was here, that she was his Guardian, and that she was so good at mission planning.

“She’s going to be fine. She has a bad concussion, but I brought something that will cure her.” Flynn stood up and fished the bags out of the back of his pants. Moriarty was talking reassuringly to Eve while Flynn untied his bag. 

“Eve! Eve!” Moriarty’s voice got louder and more urgent. He was holding Eve’s hand and cupping her cheek, but her eyes were now closed. “Hurry, Flynn, I think she’s falling unconscious.” 

Flynn almost fumbled the bag. His fingers didn’t quite want to obey him, but he finally got the drawstring open. He spread the piece of leather on the ground and fished the small plastic vial with the glowy green substance out of the pile. He’d just gotten the stopper open when Eve suddenly spasmed and slumped bonelessly to the side. 

Moriarty caught her before she could hit the ground, but her body was shaking in his arms as it was racked by a seizure. 

Flynn leaned over and almost spilled the valuable oil as Eve’s head twitched to the side. “Hold her steady, I have to get her to drink this!” 

“I am trying!” Moriarty ground out. He pressed one arm closer around Eve, steadying her against him, and angled his other arm around her throat. 

Eve’s head effectively immobilized by Moriarty’s grip, Flynn tried again. He couldn’t get her mouth open, so the best he could do was pull on her lower lip and let the oil drip onto it. He hoped it was enough. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Time stretched unbearably while Eve’s body still shook and trembled. 

He had a terrible flashback to the last time he’d had to save her with the oil. At least then, he’d been able to see how her chest wound had disappeared. But this time, there was no visible change. Finally Eve stopped jerking in Moriarty’s arms and he loosened his hold, cradling her in his lap.

“Did it work?” Moriarty’s voice cracked.

“It must have. It always does.” Flynn kept talking without listening to what he was saying. “It has to work. It’s magic. It heals everything.” 

He put his hand to her jugular, but there was no pulse.

 _No, no, no._

“Just a few more seconds.”


	9. Steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth

_‘A man in hue, all hues in his controlling,  
Which steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth’_

\--- 

Flynn felt the magic prickle through his fingers a fraction of a second before he felt Eve’s heart beat again. Her eyes flew open and she gulped in a deep breath. Relief flooded him and he closed his burning eyes. His own heart burned, too, struggling to find a normal rhythm again. 

Eve raised her arms, reaching for Flynn. It felt a little weird to lean down so close to Moriarty’s body, but he needed to kiss her more than anything else, so he pushed through it. He felt her relax under him. Tension flowed out of his shoulders, and Flynn felt light as a feather. She was alive and well.

When he inhaled, the musty smell of the cold packed earth of the cellar hit his nose. It was overlaid with the spicy leather of Moriarty’s jacket. Over everything was the warm and comfortable smell of Eve’s hair and skin. 

The combination did weird, confusing things to Flynn. He grew uncomfortably aware of his position. He was crouched on his knees, leaning forward precariously as Eve held onto his shirt. The hair above his ear brushed Moriarty’s stomach. 

Flynn needed to regroup for a minute. Just when he tried pulling back, a hand lightly touched his neck. 

Moriarty was touching Flynn’s spine, moving his hand in a small circle. It may have been intended as a calming gesture, but it had the exact opposite effect on Flynn. If things were confusing before, now they were completely out of control. 

Flynn froze for a second before his flight reflex kicked in and he jumped up. He needed to get away. Balling his fists a few times to dispel the tingly feeling, he fled towards the opposite cellar wall. He reached it way too quickly, but he couldn’t turn back and look at Eve or Moriarty yet. He veered off behind a wine rack instead. Striding back and forth along the narrow corridor, he walked off the worst of his agitation. His legs finally stopped moving and he leaned against the wall of bottles, still safely out of sight, breathing hard.

He should be thinking about getting out of this cellar, and stopping Prospero, but his brain didn’t want to cooperate. It was giving him flashes of the smell of Eve’s hair instead. Whenever he tried to pull himself together, his spine tingled where Moriarty had touched it.

Flynn’s thoughts scattered again. He willed his arousal to go away, pressing his heel against the front of his pants. Unfortunately, his erection didn’t seem to mind the rough contact at all, straining against his hand insistently. 

Flynn whined under his breath. To his shock, he heard an answering sound from Moriarty around the wine racks. How could he have forgotten the magic connection between them? Did Moriarty feel what Flynn felt? That was probably the wrong thing to concentrate on, because as soon as Flynn thought that, he became aware of the conduit between them. It was stronger than ever before, thrumming through Flynn’s body, anchoring at the hot center of his awareness. He could feel it echoing back from Moriarty. Yes, Moriarty was indeed feeling exactly the same, Flynn realized. His cheeks heated. That thought flowed across to Moriarty and back again, amplified, ratcheting up in a feedback loop. 

Heat spread through Flynn’s whole body as he was caught in the relentless onslaught of emotions. It was too much. Flynn thought he might burst any second. “No! Stop! I can’t do this.” 

Surprisingly, that seemed to help. The air around him cleared. Flynn filled his lungs in refreshing gulps. He tried to concentrate on the texture of the rack he was holding onto, the cool glass of the bottle on which he was leaning his head. He started to feel his own limbs again, and they were his alone. He welcomed the goosebumps the cool air raised on his arms. 

He had managed to break out of it! At least now the only arousal he had to contend with was his own. His skin was so oversensitized that he didn’t dare move from his spot. He squeezed his eyes shut and balled his hands into fists to help him focus. He kept breathing slowly through his open mouth and did his best to get his body under control again.

He jumped in surprise, almost rolling one of the bottles out of its hold in the shelf, when Eve suddenly appeared in front of him. 

“Flynn, are you okay?” She handed him his drawstring bag that he’d left open on the floor, now neatly bound again.

He almost laughed hysterically at the concern in Eve’s voice. “No, not really?”

Flynn looked quizzically at the bag in his hand. It took him a minute to figure out what to do with it. He busied himself tying it back onto his pants. 

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

She was so gentle with him, he knew he had to try. His heartbeat was still all over the place, making it hard to get the words out. “Moriarty. He’s… I can’t… I can’t help what he’s doing to me. I’ve tried. I hoped it would go away, but it hasn’t. I don’t know what to do… I promised you… ” he trailed off. He hoped it’d been halfway comprehensible. 

Eve’s face didn’t offer any clues. He was just about to start apologizing when she opened her mouth to reply, “That’s it?”

His arms were now shaking so hard he had to cross them in front of his chest, his fists pressing painfully against his ribs. “Yes?”

“Okay. I’m going to guess and you’re going to tell me when I’m wrong, okay?”

“Okay.” At least the fear was dousing his overheated body, and he was able to concentrate again. Small mercies.

“So you have feelings for Moriarty.” 

Hearing it was almost as difficult as saying it. Flynn nodded, trying to ignore the flush that spread up his face to the tips of his ears. He winced at the echoing tremor from Moriarty. He stomped on it decisively. He didn’t want Moriarty to be part of this. This was between him and Eve.

It was still distracting him, though. He had to backtrack to remember what Eve had said next: “You’re afraid I’m going to be mad.” And she was looking at him, waiting for an answer.

He nodded again.

“But you’re still mine.” 

He’d promised, although he didn’t know how he could be. He wasn’t worthy of her. The shaking had spread to Flynn’s neck, making him shiver, but he pushed through it, nodding vigorously this time. “Yes. Yes. You’re the best person in the whole world, you know that. But I’m not...”

She held up a hand, stopping him. “Okay. I get it.” 

Eve took a deep breath, but Flynn’s focus was on the small smile that formed on her lips. Why was she smiling? There must be something he was missing. 

Eve went on, “You’re afraid that you can’t be in love with me and attracted to Moriarty at the same time.”

Well, obviously. Wait. “What are you saying? I can?”

Eve’s smile was wicked now. “Yes, you can.” 

Flynn gaped. His insides did strange jumpy things while the trembling in his limbs stopped at the same time. “Honestly?”

She nodded, but then dropped her gaze. “And so can I.” This time, her smile was shaky when she looked back up. 

There was no way he could resist her if she looked at him this way. He stepped closer and softly cradled her face in his hands before he kissed her. She was unusually small and fragile in his arms at first, but it didn’t take long until she wrapped her arms around him. He felt her strength return. It was perfect timing, because his brain chose that same moment to snap back to what had happened before the kiss, and his world turned upside down.

He held onto Eve, anchoring himself on her solid stance and her warm lips while the world spun around him, his mind bouncing off surprising new planes and angles. 

The world tilted upright again after a while, but Flynn had more questions than answers. He had to break the kiss. “Does this mean what I think it means? Am I still yours?”

Eve pulled Flynn back in and kissed him again. He was almost convinced that was explanation enough, when Eve broke the kiss this time and leaned her forehead against Flynn’s. “It means I can’t lose you. Everything else is debatable. You are mine as long as you are with me. As long as you don’t go behind my back, and…,” her voice turned softer, “as long as you love me.”

“I love you. Of course I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Moriarty has never been a part of that.” Realms of possibilities opened up in Flynn’s mind at her answer and distracted him momentarily. “Actually, I haven’t thought of it like that before. This changes everything.” 

Eve hugged him close and sighed into his ear. “I'm glad you see it that way.”

Flynn buried his nose in her hair and inhaled her lovely scent. He was so lucky to have her.

Eve grabbed him by the shoulders, holding him at arm’s length, and tilted her head. “Aren’t you jealous?”

That hadn’t been one of the angles he’d been exploring. Flynn probed his jealousy. He stopped just short of imagining Eve and Moriarty kissing. He didn’t need to risk another overwhelming magic tide. He knew the answer anyway. He had seen them kiss just this morning, but Eve had turned the situation around. Oh. He should have realized much earlier what that meant: 

He didn’t have to feel guilty anymore. 

She didn’t have to feel guilty anymore. 

He lingered on that thought for another second or two, checking if his body had kept up with his logic, waiting if he’d be hit with jealousy again. 

A smile spread across Flynn’s face. In the place of his jealousy was now something much more exciting. He was going to get to explore this new uncharted world, and Eve was there with him!

“Not jealous,” he summed up his train of thought for her. “I’m yours, and you’re mine, and he’s…”

“Here.” Moriarty’s voice was closer than Flynn had expected. Over Eve's shoulder, Flynn could see him stepping into view around the wine rack. Eve turned around to face him, and Moriarty stopped a few feet away.

Flynn wouldn't have thought it possible, but there apparently was a thing like too many new exciting things at once. He felt a bout of hysterical laughter coming on. He bounced on his feet, trying to keep it down. He had no idea what was going to happen next. If this was an adventure, he'd know exactly what to do, but this was... a relationship? Love? He was so bad at this. Completely stumped. But Eve was good with emotions. She'd know how to proceed.

Eve rubbed her temples. “Focus. Focus. How do we get out of here?”

Okay, maybe not. Or maybe she just had her priorities straight. It served to get Flynn's brain into gear again, though, which he really appreciated. Getting out was the most important thing right now.

“Right.” Moriarty blinked and shook his head, but then he took a deep breath and set himself into motion. “I will take a closer look at the door.”

Eve was already on her way to a window. Flynn chose the one next to her. Both of them proceeded to rattle the bars. The black metal bars seemed to be set into the masonry and didn’t budge at all. Flynn wrinkled his nose. Apparently, nothing was too much effort when it came to protecting valuable wines.

Flynn went on to the next window. He tried not to be distracted by Moriarty shouting curses at the thick door. He couldn't help clucking his tongue in disapproval when Moriarty started kicking it for good measure. That wasn't going to get them out. 

He admitted he’d let himself get distracted all along when the ruckus stopped. He realized he was just standing there watching Moriarty put his ear to the door.

“No reactions from the other side. Not a sound,” Moriarty announced. “Either they are very well trained or there are no guards at the door.” 

“Thank you, that could be helpful,” Eve answered.

Flynn let out a breath, annoyed that he hadn’t thought of trying that. He cast around for something useful to do and decided to take a closer look at the walls.

Moriarty kept talking: “The door itself is sturdy, at least three inches thick. The hinges are on the other side. There is no lock. I don't see a way of opening it from this side.”

Eve went to stand next to Moriarty and inspected the door for herself. She raised her voice for Flynn. “Do we have any magical things able to break through this door?”

“Nope, I have nothing that could break or dissolve the door,” Flynn answered from the far wall. He was checking each corridor for doors, trap doors, delivery chutes, anything. He continued around the wine racks, searching for hidden levers. 

Of course, the last stretch didn't offer anything, either. Flynn returned to Moriarty and Eve near the door. He'd walked the whole perimeter of the room, twice, and was none the wiser.

They looked at each other, but it was clear in their faces that none of them had a plan. Flynn sighed. They really couldn’t afford to rot in here while Prospero was scheduled to appear any time now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're at the halfway point now! How do you like it so far?


	10. As soon as think the place where he would be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sex in this chapter is slight dub-con for magic impairing Flynn's judgement.

_‘For nimble thought can jump both sea and land,  
As soon as think the place where he would be’_

\--- 

They’d been standing in a circle for a while, thinking, when Moriarty opened his mouth. “Well, we may not have any magical things that could break through this door, but I am a magical thing that could _go_ through this door. Theoretically. If I could change my location at will here.”

They both looked at Moriarty. Flynn had been in the middle of mentally constructing a lever to break the bars off the windows. It took him a second to pay attention. A magic solution sounded good. In Flynn’s experience, they tended to have a greater chance of success.

But Eve answered faster. “No sense wasting time on ifs. You barely have enough energy to survive. But I’ve been thinking. Couldn’t we just go back in time a day and… I don’t know, wait until the door is open and just walk out of this room?”

“No!” Flynn blocked her immediately. “No more time travel!”

She made her skeptical face at him. He normally liked that expression, but right now he was afraid of it. She was going to find out they were stuck here if he didn’t come up with some other idea fast.

He turned in a circle once more and opened his mouth to present his only half-finished lever idea. But Eve caught his arm before he could spin out of her reach, cutting off his momentum. “Why not?” 

Her gaze pinned him on the spot. All his attempts at evasion fled his mind. Damn. “Because we don’t have a time machine anymore.” He wanted to keep looking her in the eye as he said it, but his gaze landed at her feet instead. 

He heard her breath stutter before she said, “Say that again.”

Flynn took a deep breath and finally managed to raise his head. Her look made the words stick in his throat. She looked… well, he didn’t know what he had expected. Her voice had sounded like she was about to start crying. Her face didn’t show any sign of that. It was her soldier face he saw, fierce and strong. Like being stranded in the past was just one more mission to complete, one she intended to face head on. And blame him for.

He had to start twice before the words came out properly. “Our time machine broke when we got here. We have no way of getting back. But I will figure something out! I just haven’t had time to think about it yet.” Something would come to him in time. It always did. It had to.

“Sometimes I really don’t understand you, Flynn.”

The disappointment in her voice hit him like a slap in the face, and all his thoughts scattered. He’d expected her to be angry, but he’d never allowed himself to think about it too much. This was much worse than he’d envisioned. There were no words that could make her forgive him. 

It seemed like ages before Eve swung around to focus on Moriarty. Finally, the spotlight had left Flynn and he could breathe again. His stomach was still churning.

She asked Moriarty, “What about you?”

“If you’re asking whether I have a time machine, the answer is no. Prospero sent me here using a spell. I don’t think he ever planned for me to return.” He made a gesture that Flynn thought might have been intended as an indifferent shrug, but ended up turning into a defensive bracing of his shoulders. They were in the same boat, then.

“Good thing you stopped working for him.” Eve said, managing to evoke a crooked smile in Moriarty. Then she swung her spotlight back onto Flynn. “No time travel.” 

Flynn’s throat turned dry. Before he could launch into an apology, Eve went on, counting off points on her fingers: “First objective: get out of jail. Second objective: stop Prospero, without getting thrown back in. Final objective: get back home.” 

Looking between both of them, she asked, “Any ideas for getting out of here that don’t involve time travel?”

Seizing on the relief that punishment was avoided for now, Flynn tried to get his brain back on track. He hadn’t gotten very far with his ideas yet. “We could hide and only make the guards think we escaped. Then we could walk out of here.”

Eve's comeback was immediate. “There is nowhere to hide. The racks don’t provide enough cover.”

“We could surprise the guards as they come to get us and fight our way out of here,” Moriarty suggested.

“Yeah, because that worked so well the first time.” Flynn winced at the memory. Moriarty's grimace indicated he was thinking the same thing.

“We have very little chance of fighting them,” Eve said. “They're well armed and well protected, and pretty well trained. All we have is lengths of wood and shards of glass. We could maybe manage to tie something primitive together, but it's very risky.”

They all fell silent again and no new ideas came up for a while. They obviously had no better ideas than Flynn did, so he might as well pitch his idea. “We could build a lever out of the wine racks and break one of the bars. We’d have to use long sturdy ones and probably have to dismantle all the racks in our way so the lever would be long enough, but it’s worth a try.”

Eve actually laughed out loud at his idea. “Do you know how thick and long the wood would have to be to break those bars? These old things could never take the pressure. And how would you dismantle the racks? Pile all the bottles in a corner?”

Moriarty's voice was quiet against Eve's strong tone. “I will try transporting myself outside. I haven’t managed to do it at will since we got here, but I’ve been able to do it before. I should be able to do it again. Given enough energy.” It was clear he wasn't looking forward to the experience.

Flynn had to say it. “If you are as weak and in pain as the last time you did this, it won't help us much.”

Moriarty’s squared jaw clearly showed he was aware of it, but wasn’t going to let that stop him. “I could try appearing in an empty spot where I don't have to fight. Maybe the entrance hall.”

“Wouldn't it be easier to move the shortest distance possible?” Eve suggested. “How about in front of a window? We could probably reach you through it, to replenish your energy if necessary. And we can check that nobody is close by when you try.”

“I still don’t think Moriarty has enough energy for any jumping at all,” Flynn tried arguing once again. 

Eve silenced him with a look. “We will try it. It’s the best idea we have so far. It won’t take long to find out if it works or not.”

Moriarty straightened. “So it is agreed. Once I am out, I will kill…,” he veered off at Eve's stern look, “...distract the guards, if there are any, and let you out.”

Eve went to the nearest window and tried looking this way and that. “Flynn, can you go to the window farthest away from me, so we can cover the largest angle?”

Flynn did as she asked, wedging his head as far as it would go between the bars. That gave him a surprisingly good vantage. His eyes were exactly at ground level. If he stretched, he could see across the gravel court all the way to the inn on the other side of the street. There was a hedge cutting off his line of sight to the left, but otherwise his view was clear. 

It seemed they were in luck. There were no people around, he could see no movement anywhere. “All clear on my side.” 

“Here, too. Anytime you're ready, James.”

Both Eve and Flynn kept watching the street. Nothing happened. Neither in the room nor outside.

Flynn glanced over at Moriarty, who seemed to be concentrating with his eyes closed. Flynn just barely managed to hold back a scathing comment. He knew this wasn’t going to work, but he was not going to anger Eve again. He could be a team player.

A terrible scream echoed across the street and made Flynn jump, his temple colliding painfully with a metal bar. 

Eve cursed. Flynn hissed and rubbed his head. Moriarty asked from behind them, “What happened?”

Flynn craned his head to check where the scream had come from, but there was still nothing to see. 

Eve seemed to have no better luck. “I don’t know. I can’t see anything.”

“Me neither,” Flynn answered, trying to get the best angle while keeping some distance between the bar and his throbbing head.

“But I can hear them.” Moriarty came to a window between them and looked out, too.

Now that he mentioned it, Flynn could hear something, as well. He could hear people running on gravel and some shouts from far away. It sounded like a battle, or a panic. The steps and shouts were getting closer and closer, but it felt like ages until they could finally see something. Half a dozen people came belting around the corner only ten feet away from Flynn. Their shoes churned up gravel as they crossed the street at a dead run, flailing their arms and screaming in panic. Flynn only caught snatches: “madness”, and “hide”, and “help”. 

“Ow!” Flynn twitched, narrowly missing the bar with his head this time. Something burned against his thigh. He swatted at it before he realized it was his drawstring bag that had suddenly become hot. He had to bend over so it swung away from his leg. The position didn’t make it any easier to untie it. 

He loosened the string carefully without touching the hot part of the leather. As he slowly pulled it open, an unusual glow emanated from it. Flynn instinctively leaned back, holding it away from his face. He put it on the ground before slowly opening it all the way. 

It was his magic detector. The normally translucent crystal was glowing bright red. Where it touched the bag, faint wisps of smoke were rising from the darkening leather. Flynn quickly nudged the artifact with his shoe until it came to lie on the cold ground. The other two had approached Flynn while he was wrestling with the bag. Now they were all leaning over it. Flynn wrinkled his nose at the stench of burning leather. Eve made a disgusted noise, waving at the air to dispel the smell.

“What is this?” Moriarty asked.

“It detects magic. I brought it to find Prospero’s staff,” Flynn explained. “It’s supposed to glow when magic artifacts are near. But I’ve never seen it blaze hot like this.”

“Prospero?” Eve asked, looking up at Flynn. 

He shrugged. “Could be.” Prospero’s appearance could well have some magic side effects.

They were distracted again by loud noises outside. It sounded like panicked animals. All three of them were crowded at the same window now. Flynn strained to see something around Moriarty and Eve. 

“Prospero!” they both exclaimed, turning towards each other and thereby freeing Flynn’s line of sight. It wasn’t Prospero he saw. He blinked at the impossibility of it: there was a man running across the street, but in the place of his human head was a donkey’s head. The man was braying in panic.

“This is a character from Midsummer Night’s Dream!” Flynn was sure of it. “Are all of Shakespeare’s characters coming to life? This could be a lot bigger than we thought!” If magic was out of control like that, no wonder his detector was burning up.

“It’s exactly what we’ve been waiting for! We have to get out of here right now!” Eve shook the bars of the window again, but it looked more like they were shaking her. The bars remained as unmoving as ever.

“I’m trying,” Moriarty replied angrily, “but I can’t do it. It’s not working!” He shook his fists in frustration and marched over to the cellar door again. “Let us out! Now!” Hitting it with both fists, he kept shouting at it, alternating orders with curses. 

Flynn winced at the volume. Important things were happening outside, and they were locked up in here. He couldn’t think! Not with Moriarty throwing a tantrum like this.

“Stop it!” Flynn shouted at the top of his lungs. But Moriarty didn’t listen, he just raised his voice in anger, his last words turning into a drawn-out inarticulate scream.

This wasn’t getting them anywhere! Flynn stomped over to Moriarty.

“Don’t touch me!” Moriarty whipped around, eyes blazing, and gripped Flynn by the wrist.

The moment they touched, Moriarty’s eyes widened. He groped for Flynn’s other arm and found it, sliding down to Flynn’s wrist and effectively immobilizing his arms. Flynn felt pinned like a butterfly. He could almost feel a needle pierce his suddenly galloping heart.

Flynn stood rooted to the spot as Moriarty slowly closed the distance between them. His green eyes had a mesmerizing brown tint in the dim light. _‘Touch me… touch me… touch me…,’_ Moriarty’s voice echoed in Flynn’s ears. 

“Open up for me.” Moriarty’s voice was low, but it went all the way through Flynn, right down to his toes. 

Open up? Flynn already felt spread wide open, no defense between them, his arms caught behind his back. He was completely at Moriarty’s mercy. 

The wall, Flynn realized. The wall he had built between them, it was still holding, still stopping the magic from flowing between them. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he opened the floodgates again. He was going to drown, he knew it. 

A tiny voice in his head said _‘you want it, too, you don’t have to fight it,’_ but Flynn couldn’t quite bring himself to lower his last defense. 

Moriarty’s face came closer and Moriarty’s eyes stayed wide open the whole time, just like Flynn’s, until their noses touched. Moriarty’s breath puffed warm across Flynn’s lips and cooled them again when Moriarty inhaled. Warm, cool, warm, cool. Flynn’s eyes fell closed. 

At the first touch of lips, a bolt of lightning hit Flynn square in the stomach. He couldn’t remember why he’d wanted to resist. He didn’t know whether it was Moriarty guiding him using the grip on his wrists, or the magic finally surging between them that made Flynn strain forward. 

Their bodies collided, mouths to chests to hips. Moriarty was all around Flynn, bracketing Flynn’s arms on both sides, leaning down into the kiss. Flynn had to tip his head back and Moriarty’s stubble scratched over his lips. 

The flow of magic roared between them, but instead of drowning him, it was buoying him up and sweeping him out to sea. Warm currents curled around his legs, the smell of magic crackled in the air. Moriarty’s arms were starting to shake and Flynn increased the pressure, hands flexing in the air, needing to touch. All he could do was plaster himself even closer to Moriarty, press his tongue against Moriarty’s, guiding it, pulling it deeper, needing more, more.

Moriarty’s taste filled Flynn’s mouth. It was fresh, sharp, but the edges held a familiar hint of books and printer’s ink, unexpected and alluring. The heady scent of Moriarty’s sweat filled Flynn’s nose. Flynn gave himself over to it all, moaning and writhing and wanting. 

Until he was suddenly let loose, tipping forward. 

Flynn’s eyes shot open. A dark cloud obscured his vision as Moriarty dissolved away from Flynn, leaving him off-balance. His skin prickled cold where Moriarty had touched it. Flynn felt like he was being ripped apart, like he was losing a part of himself. 

Flynn just managed to throw his arms up, catching himself before his nose hit the door.

The smoke was gone, but Flynn’s eyes were still stinging. His ears were ringing. A frustrated whine left him. “No, no, no, …” 

He knew why Moriarty was gone, somewhere in his confusion, but it didn’t help. Everything hurt at the terrible loss. He couldn’t leave him like this! He wanted to hit Moriarty over the head with something so he’d get back to Flynn, back into his arms. He grasped for Moriarty across the waves of magic, but he couldn’t feel him. No Moriarty anywhere.

Part of Flynn knew he was making no sense, but his thoughts kept swirling away from him while his body pulsed with need. Nothing made sense. He shook his head. That didn’t really improve the spinning, either. Or the way the door vibrated under his head, as if it objected to Flynn leaning against it.

Flynn jumped in surprise when Eve grabbed him by the waist and pulled him away from the door. He hadn’t heard her approach. He turned and let himself fall into her arms willingly, still too unsteady and bereft to stand on his own. 

Eve cupped his cheek. “Flynn? You okay?”

Her voice was deep and low, her pupils blown wide in contrast to the strength with which she held him. Flynn nodded to appease her, but he didn’t know if he was okay. He didn’t know anything. He didn’t think he was in danger, just… he wanted Moriarty back. Flynn could barely feel his legs. He was still rocking on a sea of magic. And he was turned on beyond belief, which was making it really hard to think. He needed to breathe and think of… something. Something else than Moriarty’s voice.

The door opened behind him and said voice started talking. “It worked.” 

The sound spilled like sunshine down Flynn’s back. Moriarty was still alive. He could feel him again. Faintly, and far away, but he was there. Flynn pressed up against Eve, making her stumble. Everything swayed, but they didn’t fall.

“Yes, but,” Eve answered with a nervous laugh, “I think you broke him.”

“I did what?” Moriarty’s voice rose incredulously, and he stepped closer. 

Not close enough. Flynn shook his head again and felt the wave of arousal slosh onto the other side of his skull, setting off even more nerve endings than before. All the hairs on his back were standing on end as if they were straining for Moriarty. 

“I can’t think,” Flynn whispered through the onslaught, grabbing onto Eve wherever he could, plastering himself against her much the same as he’d done Moriarty before. She wasn’t as tall, but just as strong, and wonderfully soft in places. “So close. Please.” He kissed her neck because it was right there, and it smelled good.

Eve wrapped her arms closer around him. “Oh, Flynn. I’ve got you.” And a bit louder, “He’s no use like this, we might as well.”

Flynn licked up her throat. He couldn’t quite follow her words. Words made no sense. “Please.”

“Might as well what?” Moriarty sounded confused.

“Just hold him for a minute,” Eve said right next to Flynn’s ear, the sounds waves rippling through him gently. “It won’t take long.”

“Oh,” Moriarty’s voice was now just as close, his arms wrapping around Flynn from behind.

Flynn leaned back into the embrace, his head resting comfortably on Moriarty’s shoulder until Eve stepped away. She couldn’t, she mustn’t. He needed… 

But then she cupped him through his pants and he forgot everything else. He strained against Moriarty’s chest, panting, as Eve unlaced Flynn’s pants with a single pull. Snaking her hand past the waistband of his boxers, she wrapped her cool fingers around him. She pumped twice, three times, and the stormy sea in Flynn’s body exploded in a spray of hot droplets, flowing, dripping down, leaving his body in blessed black silence. Moriarty caught him when his knees buckled, his breath grazing Flynn’s neck, cooling his skin.

“Not long at all.” Eve’s voice was far away.

“Oh,” Moriarty said again, this time with wonder. 

Flynn would have laughed out loud if there had still been any air in his lungs or any energy in his muscles. As it was, he was bonelessly hanging in Moriarty’s hold, happy and in no hurry for his body to reappear. 

“Okay, where were we?” Eve shook herself and sighed. Her fingers on his chin were softly guiding him to look at her. “Flynn? Are you okay? Functioning again now?”

He didn’t want to. He felt too good. But a tiny voice in the back of his mind said something about Prospero and a mission, and he should probably listen to it.

“Yes,” Flynn admitted. It sounded more like a croak than a word. He swallowed and straightened, taking his weight back onto his own feet. They reluctantly held it. “Thank you.” 

“Here, tie this.” Eve pressed the strings to his own pants into Flynn’s hands.

Flynn blushed furiously. It shouldn’t have been possible, the way his skin had been burning up before already, but it definitely got even hotter. At least Eve had somewhat protected his privacy. Flynn didn’t need the image of standing naked before Moriarty with his pants at his ankles. He quickly laced up his pants again. 

“Okay.” Eve smiled at him indulgently. Her cheeks were red, too. “Come on, we have an evil sorcerer to stop.”

Moriarty went ahead, which was a relief, so Flynn didn’t have to look him in the eye. Eve pulled Flynn along and he followed the two of them up the stairs, his head finally clearing.


	11. He was but one hour mine

_‘He was but one hour mine,  
The region cloud hath masked him from me now’_

\--- 

They stepped out of the house through the same door they’d used on the way in and looked around for the most sensible direction to take. Flynn only noticed he’d forgotten his things when Eve asked him for the magic detector. Luckily, house and hall were still deserted, so nobody saw him running down into the cellar again to collect his bag. 

He stepped over a conspicuous puddle next to the cellar door. His blush, only just faded, returned again in full force. What had he done? How could he have been so indecent? Was it all the magic’s fault? He’d known it was going to drown him! 

But it was what had helped them escape! 

He shook his head at himself. That hadn’t played any part in his reasoning. He should know better than to rationalize his behavior after the fact. 

What he should really focus on was that it had been different than before. Different than he had expected. Even while the magic was flowing, there had been no feedback loop between himself and Moriarty. He had been drowning, yes, but there had been no danger. It had felt impossibly good. The memory made tingly aftershocks spread from his stomach outward all over his body. But it hadn’t been forced on him in any way. It was his own desire that had swelled and surged with magic...

Flynn swallowed. If being with Moriarty was always like this, and if Eve really approved, he was in for one hell of a ride. He didn’t know whether to feel dread or excitement.

He took the stairs two at a time and caught up to Eve and Moriarty around the corner. Flynn was holding the magic detector in his open palm. It was only faintly glowing now, just like it was supposed to, but it was easy to tell where it glowed strongest, so Flynn took the lead. 

Eve waved them off the path. She stayed behind Flynn with Moriarty in the rear, all of them ducking close to a row of high tea rose bushes. Flynn had almost forgotten that they were still wanted traitors. Although outbreaks of wild magic tended to rearrange people’s priorities. He was sure that applied in the 17th century just as much as in the 21st. It wouldn’t hurt to be careful for now, though.

There were only a few people anxiously milling about the garden, but none of the armed guards were in sight. Neither was Prospero, nor any other Shakespearean creatures. 

The magic detector led them to two men in the shade of a tree. One was huddling on the ground. The other one was talking to him in a low voice, seemingly trying to get him to stand, and failing. 

Neither of them was Prospero, so Flynn slowly approached. He didn’t remember seeing them before, which was probably what made Eve decide that it was safe to talk to them. “Excuse me, sirs? Have you seen an evil wizard?”

They both turned their heads in surprise. Now Flynn saw that the man sitting on the ground was blind. Blind people weren’t an uncommon sight in the 17th century, but this man’s eyes were neither missing completely nor glassy white. They were black.

As soon as Eve had spoken, the blind man started wailing, “Seen? Yes, I’ve seen him! He told me he’d murder King James and become ruler of all England,” he sobbed, “and then he blinded me!” He hid his face in his hands and cried, “I never should have spoken!”

Flynn saw the astonishment in Eve’s eyes, and the hate in Moriarty’s. He hastened to assure the man, “We came to stop him. Did you see where he went?” 

Only after the words had left Flynn’s mouth did he realize his mistake. The blind man only sobbed louder in response. Eve spread her arms in exasperation and whispered, “Nice, Flynn.” 

But the other man spoke up now. He was trying to comfort his crying friend with one arm around his shoulders, and pointed his other arm in the direction of the rose garden. “He went that way.”

\--

Not much later, they found themselves crouched behind a row of spruce trees that marked the edge of the rose garden. From their spot, a smaller tree with sparse branches allowed a view across the whole area of meticulously planted and brightly blooming flower beds. Prospero was indeed on the other side of the rose garden. He looked restless, a bit crazy, even, the way he waved his staff in the air. The glowing crystal tip described blue arcs over the dark red roses as he walked back and forth between them.

Eve looked at Flynn and Moriarty expectantly. “Within the rose garden, there is little to no cover. We need to come up with a plan before we run in there.” 

“I just want to wring his throat,” Moriarty grumbled, his eyes shooting daggers at Prospero.

“James! You know this isn’t helping. Prospero can’t be killed. He’s fictional.”

“I realize that.” Moriarty’s eyes cleared and he inclined his head at Eve and Flynn. “Seeing him again reminded me of how badly he treated me and everyone else. I apologize.”

“Right.” Flynn still couldn’t read him, and he didn’t know how far he could trust him. Moriarty had helped them reliably since they’d freed him from the stocks, at least. 

Eve seemed to trust him, judging from the way she touched Moriarty’s shoulder and gave him an understanding look. 

It would be much easier if Flynn could trust himself around Moriarty. His body was still humming contentedly from before, and… Flynn stopped that train of thought immediately, before he could prove himself right and lose his senses. Prospero needed to be their focus now. 

“We know how his story ends.”

Eve nodded at Flynn. “It ends with his staff broken and his book drowned. Well, then that’s what we’re going to do.”

Flynn considered Prospero. He was still pacing, using his staff as a walking stick and clasping his book in his other hand. “The question is, how do we get them? The book might be possible, but I don’t think he’s ever going to let go of his staff.”

“Okay, then let’s start with the book.”

“I can distract him, I know how he thinks.” Moriarty offered.

Eve narrowed her eyes, “Promise that you won’t try anything rash. Just talk to him.”

“I am capable of restraint,” Moriarty replied in a serious tone. “Once I get him to stand still, preferably in the far corner near the wall, you can try to steal the book.”

Flynn checked out the wall in the far corner. It was just a low wall running along the edge of the rose garden. Behind it, more spruce were growing. It looked like a good place to get close to Prospero unseen.

“Yes, and there’s a fountain right next to the wall.” Flynn lifted his arm to point at it, but Eve pushed him down again immediately, back behind the cover of the tree. “Oops, sorry. All we have to do is get the book to that fountain. Throwing it into the water might already weaken him sufficiently for us to grab the staff.”

“It’s a plan.” Eve held out her hand between them, and Moriarty shook it. Flynn wasn’t really a fan of team rituals, but he wasn’t going to let Moriarty show him up, so he simply put his hand on top of theirs. 

The moment he touched Moriarty’s hand, he felt the now familiar current thrum through him. They were much more than a team, something much better and much more exciting. Flynn couldn’t stop the smile spreading across his face and strengthened his grip on the others’ hands. 

Eve smiled back at both of them. “Let’s go get him.”

\--

Moriarty didn’t do badly at all, Flynn had to admit. Flynn and Eve had gotten a head start to loop around the rose garden. Now they were watching from behind the wall as Moriarty strode in leisurely a minute later. He acted excessively subservient and meek, but Prospero obviously expected behavior like that and didn't smell the trap. Then Moriarty made him an offer he couldn't refuse: he told him he was from the future, painting Prospero's great destiny in bright colors. Moriarty even went down on one knee. Flynn saw with glee that Prospero put down his book to accept Moriarty's show of fealty.

Just as Flynn wanted to take his chance to grab the book, Eve held him back and darted forward herself. She hopped over the wall and snapped up the book, barely breaking her stride.

Of course Prospero noticed her approach, but Moriarty made a lunge for the staff as soon as Prospero turned around to stop Eve. 

Prospero lost a valuable second dodging out of reach, making Moriarty’s grip miss, but it was not quite enough. Flynn watched in horror as a bolt of lightning shot out of the large blue crystal at the tip of Prospero’s staff. Eve had covered the distance to the fountain in large steps, but just as she threw the book into the shallow water, the magic hit her in the back.

She froze mid-motion and keeled over into the pool. Her body hit the water like a stone. Her impact made a large splash, and she didn’t get up again. Flynn's heart stopped. His body set itself into motion without his conscious approval. He had nothing to lose now. All that was left was stopping Prospero, getting that staff away from him no matter how.

Moriarty was screaming his rage and came at Prospero from the other side. But even with both men rushing him, Prospero held his own. It looked like he was barely expending any force. He flicked his wrist, laughing maniacally. Flynn and Moriarty were knocked back, the staff connecting hard with Flynn’s shoulder. Flynn stumbled, but managed to remain standing. 

Flynn and Moriarty took only a quick look at each other. Even through the veil of rage, Flynn was still capable of basic tactic fighting maneuvers. They timed their attack so both of them would hit Prospero from different sides at the same time. But the staff was too strong. A pulse of magic exploded from the tip and lifted them both off their feet.

The landing knocked the air out of Flynn's lungs. For an endless moment, he thought he was dying. When he could finally draw a burning breath again, Prospero was standing right above him, drawing back the staff to strike Flynn.

Flynn watched open-mouthed, struggling to breathe. He was unable to get up or even roll to the side. He was sure he was going to be speared to death when Moriarty suddenly tackled Prospero. He shoved him to the side, making the staff narrowly miss Flynn’s chest.

Moriarty lost his footing trying not to trample Flynn, but Prospero pushed on the staff to balance himself. Swinging around it, he landed well on his feet. Lifting the staff again, he stabbed at Moriarty. 

It all happened much too fast for Moriarty to react. Prospero shouted, "I unmake thee!" and shoved his staff right through Moriarty's chest.

“No!” Flynn’s lungs seized on the word. 

Flynn stretched towards Moriarty. Their gazes locked and held, Moriarty’s green eyes wide with terror. They were both stretching, trying to reach each other, but they were too far apart. Flynn could feel the trickle of magic between their hands, but it was barely there.

“This is not how your story ends!” Flynn tried to shout, but it came out in a croaking whisper. He wasn’t sure Moriarty had even heard him.

All he could do was watch as Moriarty started dissolving into smoke. The connection between them wavered and snapped.

Prospero turned to focus on Flynn, but Flynn was still looking at the spot where Moriarty had just been. There was nothing left of him, just an area of compressed lawn.

Suddenly, he heard a sound he knew. Like a whining dog, but a little more screeching and metallic. Flynn looked up and thought he was going crazy. He had to blink several times before he was sure his eyes and ears weren’t deceiving him. Prospero was staring, too, which probably saved Flynn’s life. Again.

They were both staring at Eve, who looked like the proverbial Lady of the Lake. She was rising out of the pool, which now seemed a lot deeper than before. She was dressed in a Roman toga, her hair braided and somehow sparkling. In her hand, held high above her head, was Excalibur. The sword shone almost too bright to look at. 

“Cal!” All that escaped Flynn’s throat was a whisper. But Excalibur came into Flynn’s hand as soon as he called. From that moment, the fight against Prospero was like a long-practiced choreography. Excalibur was the most powerful magical object in the world and a familiar weight in Flynn’s hand. Flynn immediately felt a lot stronger. Prospero stood no chance against them. 

Flynn jumped up and cut the staff in two with one mighty swing. His staff broken, Prospero vanished in a flash of blue light.

Then things got a little complicated, and Flynn had no time to sort out his thoughts. Time travel was like that. 

A paradox portal opened only a few yards from Flynn. He recognized it by the sizzling blue edges that bent the light in a perfect circle. And of course by the fact that Shakespeare was on the other side, surrounded by Jenkins and the LITs. 

Eve came running up to Flynn, now completely dry again and dressed in the same clothes she’d worn before she’d fallen into the water. Except that she seemed to have lost her cap and her hair was streaming freely over her shoulders. Flynn didn’t even bother wondering about the magic behind that, he was just glad to see her. She was alive and smiling as she flew into his arms. 

He caught her with his free arm, marveling at his luck. She was alive! Holding hands, they approached the portal together. 

“Stop!” Jenkins motioned at them to stand back. They stopped dead in their tracks. 

Eve pressed Flynn closer to her side as Jenkins explained that nobody was allowed through the portal but Shakespeare. 

They were so close! They could see their friends in the 21st century only a few feet away, but they couldn’t reach them! Arms slung around each other’s waists, they listened as Jenkins’s explanation sank in.

Eve tried not to cry as she told each of her LITs they’d be fine. Flynn found himself unable to resist the emotional moment, too. He even regretted never seeing Ezekiel again, of all people. Finally, Shakespeare stepped through the portal and it closed again. The vision of the future vanished with a rush of air and a small pop, as if it had never been there.

Eve turned to Flynn and asked him quietly, “Where is James?” 

Flynn held her close as he told her what happened, swallowing the lump in his throat as best he could. “He’ll turn up again, don’t worry. He can’t be killed that easily.”

At least Eve was still alive, even though he had no idea how. He’d have to ask her about it later, in a quiet moment. They still had each other. Flynn tried to be optimistic about that. They’d finished their mission, and they were together.

\--

They spent the whole rest of the day sitting at the inn. The innkeeper apologized to them profusely, wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed. She’d never believed them to be traitors, they were such nice people, and friends of Shakespeare’s, and she’d seen them save his life, and could they ever forgive her? She insisted on making it up to them with a free meal. Serving girls kept coming by with more small treats. She assured them that their room was of course still available if they wanted to move back in. 

Flynn didn’t think her generosity went as far as waiving the room charge, but he was happy they were welcome to stay at the inn again at all. Eve had hidden her hair under a cap again. Even though Shakespeare had seen her without it at the portal, he never mentioned it. He seemed to take her change of gender in stride. Flynn appreciated it and didn’t ask any questions either. 

There were still a few things to do. Not to mention they were stuck in the past. Now that they’d seen the LITs again, and Jenkins, all of them trying to be strong and unemotional, Flynn missed them more than he cared to admit.

For now, Shakespeare’s curiosity was a welcome distraction. He had seen bits and pieces while he’d been possessed by Prospero, glimpses of the future. Now he had a lot of questions, and Flynn was willing to answer.

After a while, when there was a lull in the conversation, Flynn dared mention that he and Eve — and Moriarty, don’t forget Moriarty, his brain reminded him, and he spoke quickly to shut it up — had been arrested as traitors, and that he was still expecting the guards to turn up again. But Shakespeare waved away their fears and promised to speak in their favor when it came to the criminal charges laid against them. 

The guards, on the other hand, never did turn up at the inn. Flynn hoped they’d seen the last of them. He really hoped his hunch had been right and saving the world really trumped petty conspiracy theories. It certainly seemed to apply to the general populace. Over the course of the afternoon, several people came by their table to thank them for saving them from the “evil wizard”. Most notably, the man who’d been blind before and could now see again. He clutched Eve’s hand in gratitude while he went on and on about their bravery and kindness.

Flynn was glad that all the magical changes Prospero had made seemed to have reversed themselves harmlessly. Except Moriarty, a pain in his stomach reminded him. Moriarty was still dead. No, not dead. He couldn’t be killed. He would turn up again. Then Flynn would be able to thank him for saving his life, and everything would be well.

It took them the whole afternoon to enlighten Shakespeare on all that had happened, while he in turn told them what he’d experienced being possessed by Prospero. Eve seemed most impressed that Moriarty had saved Flynn. Flynn liked that part a lot, too, because she hugged him really close.

Flynn laughed at the revelation that Shakespeare hadn’t actually summoned Prospero at all, he’d been possessed by him. Luckily, Shakespeare now knew exactly how to perform the needed exorcism. Flynn had expected that knowledge of the future would be erased by Shakespeare’s passage through the paradox portal, but apparently that wasn’t the case. It had the incredible advantage that they now knew exactly how to get rid of Prospero in the future. Magic and time travel together never ceased to produce strange effects. 

Shakespeare told them what items they’d need for an exorcism. Thus their mission had solved itself, or would solve itself in time. Now all that was left for them to do was collect the items and hide them in the proper place for the LITs to find. Easy peasy. Time travel for beginners. Eve kept grumbling about it under her breath, but even she couldn’t deny that this was a really neat turn of events.

Flynn talked about magic and the Library, Excalibur resting quietly next to him on the bench. Shakespeare soaked up every detail, his eyes wide. Eve added useful tidbits to Flynn’s anecdotes from time to time, but insisted on stopping Flynn with a pat on his thigh and a stern look whenever she thought he was going overboard with the storytelling. He humored her, sometimes, but did she really expect him to hold back, with Shakespeare hanging on his every word? 

When he wasn’t staring at Flynn and Eve, Shakespeare looked at his magic pen with wonder, turning it in his fingers, probably already thinking of all the magical stories he could write with it.

When Eve’s head finally sank onto Flynn’s shoulder, Shakespeare suggested they call it a night. Eve roused herself for the trip to their room, even winking at Shakespeare when he realized she had been sharing a room with Flynn all this time. But Shakespeare didn’t say a word, he just laughed and shook his head, wishing them a good night.

Their room was clean and empty and ready for them as promised. The bed was newly made up, which was more than they could have expected if they hadn’t been thrown out. 

Excalibur got a place of honor on the little bedside table. He seemed to be glowing, casting a faint yellow light across the room. Flynn told him to relax and go to sleep. Cal yipped his agreement and settled down, but the glow didn’t fade. Flynn guessed he was filled to the brim, newly charged with whatever magic had brought him here, so full that some of it spilled over. 

By the time Flynn and Eve were settled in bed, they were both awake again, even though it was after midnight. The room was cold, as were the linens. The bed seemed bigger without Moriarty in it. 

Flynn felt a sting in his heart and sighed. “When do you think he’ll turn up here?”

Eve tightened her arm around Flynn. “Shouldn’t he have done that already? I mean… if he’s really still around, wouldn’t he have recoalesced right away? I half expected him to wait for us here. But he’s not here. How long do you think we can wait?”

Flynn’s stomach contracted painfully. He hadn’t let himself think it before. He’d clung to the belief that Moriarty wasn’t really gone. But the evening had been long and distracting, and Flynn hadn’t thought to update his facts. Half a day had passed, and Moriarty was still gone. What did that mean? 

Flynn didn’t know what it meant, and he didn’t allow himself to think too much about it. He just knew he really didn’t want Moriarty to be gone. Maybe it was just Flynn’s body that wanted Moriarty back, but his mind insisted on providing a few arguments, too. They’d just started getting to know him and already he had saved Flynn’s life. So many possibilities never to come true. 

Flynn’s heart felt empty. If someone had told him yesterday that this was how he would feel about Moriarty today, Flynn would have called them crazy. He hated revelations of the sad kind. “We should try and summon him! Maybe he needs our help finding back.”

“You mean summon him by thinking of him?” Eve considered the idea.

“It worked before,” Flynn pointed out.

“Yes, but how? Start making out and think of James?” Eve’s voice clearly conveyed her discomfort.  
Flynn pulled her close, kissing her forehead. “How about we imagine him being here with us?” He grasped Eve’s hand, telling himself it could be Moriarty’s. It didn’t quite work, it was too small and too warm, but she squeezed back, obviously going with his suggestion.

“Okay, let’s try that.” Eve yawned.

Flynn concentrated on the feel of her body next to his and thought of how they’d wake up together. He didn’t have many experiences to draw on, but his imagination would be able to compensate for that, he was sure. Moriarty’s breath would warm Flynn’s neck, his hand lying heavy on Flynn’s hip. Flynn specifically imagined little details like the unexpected softness of his hair when Flynn smelled it, and the way Flynn woke up with Moriarty’s strong legs wrapped around his. It was all very romantic, really, and Flynn drifted off without noticing. 

Flynn dreamt. 

They were riding three black horses across a vast prairie, fleeing from… something. Moriarty was by far the best horseman of the three of them, and he was slowly gaining on them. Eve shouted for him to wait, but either he didn’t care or didn’t hear. Soon Flynn and Eve were shouting together, but Moriarty never slowed down. He raced across a ridge ahead of them and when they reached the top, the plain stretched out empty before them, with no trace of Moriarty or his horse.

Flynn woke up at the cursed bell and groaned. He opened his eyes, but Moriarty was nowhere to be seen. The tiny bubble of hope that had survived at the back of Flynn’s mind popped. He took a shaky breath.

Eve stirred and looked around. Flynn could see the same desperation cross her face in the morning gloom of their curtained bed.

She winced and stretched. “I fell asleep.” 

Flynn shrugged and grimaced. “Me, too.”

Eve released Flynn’s hand. They apparently had not let go of each other all night. They both flexed their cramped fingers, looking at each other.

“So this didn’t work.” Flynn tried to sound less hopeless than he felt.

“Maybe,” Eve whispered, “we’re worrying too much. He’s fictional after all. Oh god, Flynn. He’s fictional.” She hid her face in her hands. “What are we doing?”

“Don’t think that makes it any less real. My last girlfriend --”

“-- was a vampire,” she finished his sentence, wide-eyed.

“Exactly. Just because he’s not like us doesn’t mean he isn’t a person. He’s human. He might not have been born like us, and his character traits aren’t the product of evolution, but he is a person. Whole and complex, like us.”

“Are you sure?”

He knew she wanted to hear it, and he wanted to believe it, too. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“You’ve thought about this.”

Flynn blushed. “Well… I couldn’t help it. And believe me, I would have liked to come to a different conclusion. It would have been so much easier. But I couldn’t. It doesn’t matter if he’s fictional or not. He’s a person. He’s… important.”

“Yes, I know.” Eve sighed. “But couldn’t we just… when we’re back in the future, summon him out of his book again?”

“No, I don’t think so. Even if we were able to return to the future. He’s been learning. He’s not the villain he was when Prospero first summoned him. The Moriarty we’d be able to pull from a book wouldn’t be _our_ Moriarty.” Flynn swallowed. They had a Moriarty. It sounded so strange to say it, but that’s exactly how it was. He belonged with them. If he was gone, if he stayed gone, they’d never get him back. Tears welled up in his eyes.

Eve sighed again and pulled Flynn close. “I know, I know. I was just…”

“... trying to find another solution. I get it.” Flynn hugged her back. “But I don’t think we did the best we could yet. We were too tired last night. Maybe it’s not too late to try again now.”

Eve nodded. Flynn started kissing her, small innocent pecks on her lips. He kissed away a tear from her cheek and let her kiss the moisture from his own eyes. He couldn’t remember ever being this sad with Eve, but then they’d been lucky before. It looked like their luck had run out. They’d lost Moriarty and their friends. Their future was far away. All they had left was each other. 

Pain spiralled down Flynn’s gut, and he did his best to get his mind away from that slippery slope. He pushed his hands up into Eve’s hair, soft and warm. He shifted his hips forward on the sagging bed, grinding against Eve’s leg. She reciprocated by pulling him closer, her hands fisting in his shirt.

Flynn tried imagining Moriarty’s fingers on his throat again, like the last time he’d turned up in their room. Flynn didn’t dare open his eyes, but he kept listening for strange sounds.

Nothing happened.

Flynn started visualizing a list of things he’d experienced when magic had flowed between him and Moriarty: green eyes, spicy leather scent, a red wave of lust. His dick started responding, finally, or maybe it was the friction with Eve’s leg that did it. He didn’t want to question it too closely, for fear of killing the arousal. He was only half hard as it was. He needed more details. Black hair, an exasperating smile, a smart mouth, an even smarter brain. 

Eve moaned, but it sounded more frustrated than excited to Flynn. He could identify with that.

She pushed herself away from him and sighed. “I can’t do this. This is not right.” 

They should have been so lucky. “I know. Me neither.” He pushed a strand of hair out of her face and tried to smile at her. “We’ll find another way.”

Eve blinked her eyes at him slowly, nodding. She leaned her forehead against Flynn’s and let out her breath slowly. They stayed like that for a long time. He caressed her shoulder and her arm, while her thumb described slow circles on his hip. It was still comforting to be in her arms, even if the sexual desire was thoroughly gone.

Eve managed to emerge from their depressive mood first and sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. “So, what’s the plan for today? Assemble the exorcism spell, right?”

Flynn nodded, shifting to the edge of the bed to sit beside her. Yes, the spell. His thoughts trailed off, his eyes finding no purchase on the featureless wall opposite the bed. He unconsciously tracked Eve’s movement when she pushed herself off the bed and went to open the shutters. The blinding light streaming into the room shook him out of his reverie. He stretched and actually looked at his surroundings. Excalibur was lying quietly — and no longer glowing — on the bedside table.

What a difference to the morning before, when Moriarty had been sitting on the floor transcribing… “Oh shit!” Flynn clasped his hands over his mouth. How could he have forgotten? 

Eve turned towards him, astonished, already halfway into a protective Guardian stance. “What?”

He pointed at the bedside table, which was completely empty except for Excalibur. “The play! I forgot about the play! It was right here when they arrested us yesterday, but now it’s gone.” He replayed the memory of last night and shook his head. “It was already gone when we returned to our room last night. Someone must have stolen it.”

Eve stared for a second before she went to push the little table away from the wall, but of course there was nothing behind it or under it either. She turned to Flynn, “Or the guards took it.”

“Possible. I didn’t pay attention.” He had been much too worried about Eve, but he wasn’t going to think about her lying crumpled on the floor now. “If they didn’t take it, the innkeeper could still have it, maybe they just cleaned the room. But they wouldn’t have thrown it away.” He hoped they wouldn’t have, at least.

A thought occurred to Flynn, and a hysterical laugh escaped his mouth. “The Lost Play. Oh my god. Wouldn’t that just be the stupidest way to lose it?”

“Are you telling me that we went to all the trouble of getting the play only to turn it into the Lost Play?” She shook her head even as Flynn nodded.

Flynn knew exactly what Eve was going to say before she said it. “I hate time travel.”

Flynn couldn’t stop giggling. Oh, but he hated time travel, too, sometimes.

Her stern look finally helped him subdue the giggles. It really wasn’t a laughing matter. He got up to stretch his aching sides when his eyes fell on Excalibur. “We can’t leave him here, either. He’s much too valuable.”

“But you can’t simply carry him around in your hand all day, either. Or worse, have him follow you around like a puppy.” Eve grimaced, “We’d be arrested again.” 

“I’ll need a sheath for him, then.” Flynn went over to pick up Cal, who seemed to shiver a bit in Flynn’s hand. He was much more shy than Flynn was used to. Flynn crooned soothing words and cradled him in his arms. This seemed to relax Cal, and the shivering subsided. “Maybe the actors have a sheath they’d consider lending me.” 

Lending involved time and commitment. He had no money to pay for one, but he wouldn’t be able to give it back, either. He wasn’t planning on staying in the past. 

He wasn’t, was he? He admittedly hadn’t put much effort into finding a way back to the future yet. Eve was going to be annoyed when she found out. Flynn made sure to keep his face neutral and his eyes on Cal. It was just that Moriarty was probably still around. This somehow made it more difficult to think about leaving. As long as there was a chance to get him back, Flynn had to take it. He had to make sure he wasn’t overlooking anything.

Eve snapped her fingers in front of Flynn’s face. “Earth to Flynn!”

“Hmm?”

“We’re going out now. You can take him with you, but only if you stop petting him. Just pretend he’s an ordinary sword while we’re outside.” She rubbed her temples. “Or we’ll get arrested. Again.”


	12. To find where your true image pictured lies

_‘To find where your true image pictured lies’_

\--- 

Flynn thought Eve was underestimating the 17th century populace’s capacity for believing in magic. But just in case, he did try and ignore Cal while people were around. He didn’t want to become the basis for another legend of Merlin, they’d changed enough history already. 

He made sure to let Cal know that it wasn’t his fault as soon as they were alone again. They’d finished their breakfast of surprisingly tasty buttered bread and unsurprisingly tasteless ale. Now they were on their way to the props wagons, and Eve shot him disapproving looks for talking to Cal. Flynn ignored them. Cal’s feelings were important, too.

Of course, there was nobody at the props yet. When the first group of actors turned up, Flynn and Eve had long picked the locks and collected two of the items they needed. They just pretended to be responsible for the props, and nobody questioned their presence. Shakespeare would support them later, in any case.

So far they had a silk carnation and a smelly thing supposed to be a donkey head. It made Flynn shiver to think of the panicked man with a real donkey head, so he tried to touch it as little as possible. They’d liberated a small chest from the wagon and put the items into that.

Flynn had also found a sheath for Excalibur, who was now inconspicuously hanging from Flynn’s hip. He seemed to like it in there, at least that’s how Flynn interpreted the sound Cal had made when he’d slid into it. He’d prepared good reasons for taking it, but strangely nobody mentioned it didn’t belong to him, so he kept quiet, too.

Unfortunately, the Lost Play was still lost. They’d asked the innkeeper during breakfast, but she didn’t know anything about it. It wasn’t back in any of the script drawers, either. Flynn had checked all of them just to be sure. It wasn’t there. 

Currently, Flynn was sitting on the steps to the wagon. He was busy writing a riddle for Jenkins and Stone to solve, while Eve was telling the actors that they needed Prospero’s cloak and his book. Not the real spell book they had drowned, of course, just a simple prop. The group were arguing about which cloak was the right one. Flynn did his best to ignore them. He had to concentrate. His plan was to plant the chest with the items here at Wilton House to be found in 400 years, and for that to work, the riddle had to be just right - not too easy, not too hard. Only Stone and Jenkins were supposed to be able to solve it.

The last item for the exorcism was Prospero’s staff. Shakespeare had insisted that the staff was his quill, so it was his responsibility to provide it. Flynn believed him, they really looked remarkably similar. He knew this would be the hardest for Shakespeare to give up. He didn’t expect Shakespeare to part with it anytime soon. But they had all the time in the world, for once. 

That was the one nice thing about time travel: you always had enough time. Wilton House in the 17th century was a nice place to spend some time, too. Flynn didn’t mind staying a while. Even though he was still hoping for Moriarty to reappear, Flynn had spent some time thinking about their last objective, as Eve called it. Different alternatives for getting back to the future had formed at the back of his mind. None of them were particularly well developed yet, but Flynn was sure they would become more concrete over time.

Flynn heard with half an ear that the actors had finished arguing. Then Eve came over to put a book and a cloak into the chest. When the actors ambled off in the direction of the stage, Eve sat down next to Flynn. He loved how she put her hand on the small of his back while nobody was looking. Unfortunately, he couldn’t enjoy it as much as he usually would, because only part of his mind was available for physical sensations. The rest was busy perfecting the riddle. But it was still nice.

After a while, she told him that she didn’t like to sit still. Flynn was mulling over a particularly recalcitrant rhyme, so he only hummed distractedly when she got up. She started pacing back and forth across the lawn while he dove back into his task.

When he finally had a last stanza that worked, Flynn lifted his head to read it to Eve. But she wasn’t there. 

That was weird. She was always there.

Flynn called her name. No answer. 

He quickly stowed away his finished riddle in the chest. He rounded the props wagon, calling for Eve again. She was nowhere to be seen, and she didn’t answer his calls. He cursed the 17th century and its lack of cell phones. One got much too used to the damned things much too quickly. 

What could she be up to? Flynn searched his memory, but didn’t remember her telling him that she’d been planning to go anywhere. He first went looking for her at the stage, but the actors hadn’t seen her, or ‘his boy’, as they called her. He watched them practice sword fighting for a while. She would probably turn up soon. 

She didn’t.

The longer he watched the more he wanted to participate. It took all his restraint not to draw Cal and join them, but that wouldn’t go over well. So he left for the inn, but Eve wasn’t there, nor was she in their room.

Normally, Flynn wouldn’t even worry about her, but now that he’d started thinking about it, the idea of her just walking away seemed unlike her. The feeling that something might be wrong wouldn’t leave him alone. It couldn’t hurt to keep looking for her.

She had been uncharacteristically agitated. Maybe she’d sensed something, like Guardians were wont to do, making her wander off to confront a threat. Maybe something had happened to her. Maybe the guards had turned up and dragged her off to jail again. 

Just in case, he went by the side of the house where the cellar windows were and called her name again. She was a Guardian and could fend for herself, but he still breathed a little easier when he didn’t find her there. 

He made his way through the gardens. The rose garden was the first on his way, but he didn’t spot her there, so he continued on down the gravel path and into the expansive landscaped garden. He’d stopped calling her name. He didn’t want to draw undue attention to himself in case anything bad had indeed happened to her. He just said her name in a low voice once in a while. He called a few more times when he came by their meeting spot, but she wasn’t there, either.

The garden was large and specifically built not to provide an easy overview over the area, small hills and copses of trees placed to give the impression of isolated treasures. It was nice to explore those leisurely, but very annoying if one was looking for someone. 

He checked his watch several times, unsure whether to just go back to the stage and look whether she’d turned up in the meantime or to continue checking the garden. He really didn’t want to search the garden twice, so he stuck with it until he was reasonably sure she wasn’t there. 

Hurrying through the whole garden and looking behind every bush had felt like ages to Flynn, but his watch assured him it had only taken twenty minutes. He emerged from the garden path at the point he had started: the stage. But he barely spared the rehearsal a glance. He found he couldn’t enjoy it anymore. Eve could have gone anywhere in the time he was in the gardens, and he would never have seen her.

Unsure where to go, he walked back and forth in view of the stage. He jumped in surprise when Cal suddenly vibrated in his sheath, trying to leave it. Flynn grabbed him by the hilt and pulled him from the sheath himself. That would at least look a little less suspicious than Cal floating on his own. Cal whined and leaned away from Flynn. 

“What is it, Cal?” Flynn whispered, but of course only got another whine for his trouble. 

Now Cal was actively pulling Flynn in one direction, and he had no choice but to follow him. Flynn was sure he looked like a madman charging around with a sword, but there was no way he was letting go of Cal now. 

“Where are you leading me?” Flynn wondered aloud, and then, “Do you know where Eve is?”

Cal meeped in a way Flynn knew was agreement. He didn’t need to be told twice, and broke into a run. He very much hoped Cal would indicate the right direction in advance, or he would be missing every turn. 

They worked together beautifully, though, just like old times, or future times, and Flynn never crashed into any trees, walls, or hedges. He almost ran over two men he didn’t recognize, who cursed and jumped out of the way when he charged by. He apologized over his shoulder, never slowing his run, and they just laughed after him, apparently not holding a grudge.

Cal was leading him straight to the rose garden, which was confusing, because he’d checked there. Assuming Cal’s goal really was the rose garden. 

He charged straight down the main path towards the fountain where they’d fought Prospero. Flynn still didn’t see anyone, the whole rose garden was deserted. Cal was slowing down the closer they got to the fountain, and Flynn’s legs silently thanked him, relaxing into a trot. 

It was only after they’d rounded the last row of roses that Flynn saw Eve. She was sitting right next to the fountain, between its low marble wall and a rose bush, hard to see for any casual passers-by. 

Flynn cursed himself for not having searched the rose garden more thoroughly. 

Eve huddled among the thorny branches, her arms slung around her knees. When the gravel crunched under Flynn’s shoes, she lifted her head and looked up at him with bleary eyes. 

Cal whined again, but he’d stopped moving. When Flynn took a step towards Eve, Cal stayed put in mid-air, bending back Flynn’s arm. 

Flynn couldn’t decide where to focus first. He stood there for a long second before he let go of Cal. He rushed over to Eve, getting down on his knees in front of her. She was sniffling and trying to dry her eyes with her linen sleeves.

He put his hand on her knee. “Darling, what happened?”

Eve tried to answer, but as soon as she opened her mouth, she was heaving sobs.

Flynn reached to sling his arms around her and she leaned forward into his embrace willingly. He held her while she sobbed into his shoulder. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He didn’t know what exactly to say, but he kept talking. “I’ve been looking for you. I’m glad I’ve found you. The garden is immense, and I searched everywhere. Did you know there’s a second pond? You weren’t there. But I found you now.” He was vaguely aware that he was babbling, but he couldn’t stop. 

Eve didn’t seem to mind, and he felt how holding her close helped calm her. It helped him, too. 

Eve did her best to get the sobs under control, but they broke out of her again and then again before they finally subsided. She wiped her face once more with her sleeve and gave Flynn a shaky smile. He wanted to hug her closer, but the position was less than ideal. His knees were starting to protest their cramped angle. He decided to stand up instead, pulling her to her feet along with him. When he slung his arms around her waist, a fuzzy warm feeling spread through him. It felt so good to hug her properly, pressing her close from top to bottom, giving her strength.

“I don’t know where to start,” was the first thing she said.

“Doesn’t matter. I can order it in my head. I’m smart like that,” Flynn quipped, sounding a lot more at ease than he felt. He still didn’t know what had made her dissolve in tears like that. But at least she was physically okay, and in his arms.

His attempt at humor had exactly the desired effect: Eve smiled at him through her tears. She pulled him closer and into a sloppy kiss. It was slick with tears and snot, but to Flynn it was the most wonderful kiss they’d ever shared. Her lips were warm and soft, their mouths and noses sliding wetly against each other, desperate but soothing at the same time. 

When Eve broke away to take a wet and gasping breath, Flynn opened his eyes to check what was wrong. But it was okay, she was still smiling. Her eyes were red and her cheeks splotchy, and she was beautiful. 

Flynn wiped away tears from under her eyes with his thumbs and smiled back at her. “I love you.” 

“Yeah.” Eve smiled, lopsided now. “But you’re the only one left.” Breath left her in a rush and she started trembling in his arms. “It’s all gone. Jenkins, Stone, Cassandra, Ezekiel, The Library. Cars. Computers. James.”

“I know. I’m so sorry.” Flynn held her close, unable to provide a real solution to her confession. He’d known she would take it hard that they had no way back, but he hadn’t expected this. He was sure they’d come up with something in time, but he had no convincing strategies yet. Her tears probably would have made him forget them anyway.

He tried his best. “I haven’t given up, you know. We will find a way back to our time before we grow old here. I can’t promise anything yet, but there are a lot of possibilities to explore. It’s far from over.” 

His words sounded hollow even to himself, but he felt Eve nod. He silently vowed to put more thought into getting back home from now on.

“I’m not usually so easy to break,” Eve mumbled into his shoulder. She was keeping the sobs under control, but only just.

He realized she hadn’t wanted him to see her like this. “It’s okay, Eve. You can break anytime.” Uh, maybe he could have phrased that better. “What I mean is, if you need me, I’ll be here. You’re my cutest, sweetest, strongest, favorite person.”

She laughed at that, but it turned into another sob, and then the sobs gained the upper hand again. Flynn really didn’t know what to say anymore, but he was now sure that holding her and petting her hair were exactly the right things to do. 

Eventually, her sobs quieted down and Eve clung to him with force. “Thank you, Flynn.” And after a little pause, “I love you, too.” He felt even closer to her than before, and he wondered why he’d ever been afraid of crying. This was freeing. Yes, it hurt, but he felt much better than before, and Eve obviously did, too.

He probably shouldn’t, but he pressed his hips forward against hers, letting her know exactly how much closer to her he wanted to be. Their mouths found each other again and no more words were needed.

A sound like a bowstring twanging made both of them look up. It came from the direction of Excalibur.

“What is it, Cal?” Flynn spun to see Excalibur had rammed his tip into the floor a few feet away from them. He was still quivering slightly from the force. Flynn didn’t get an answer. The vibrations in the sword stopped and it stood silent.

“Is he trying to tell you something?” Eve disentangled herself from Flynn’s embrace and slowly approached the sword.

“I don’t know.” Flynn followed her over. He hadn’t been paying attention to the sword while he’d been taking care of Eve. He had no idea what Cal was doing. Maybe Cal was just jealous.

Flynn stretched out his hand towards the hilt, but Cal leaned away ever so slightly. He whined in disapproval and Flynn raised his hands. “No, okay, you can stay there.” 

Flynn rounded the place Cal had chosen to get stuck in. “What do you want to tell me?” When he’d walked half a circle, he suddenly knew. He’d looked at that exact spot before. “Oh my god, this is where Moriarty disappeared.”

Eve’s eyes widened and she took a step closer but then hesitated, looking around. “Do you… does Cal think he is still here?”

“Possible. At least he thinks the place has significance.” Flynn focused on the sword again. “Is he still here? Can we get him back?”

This time Cal’s whine was definitely a yes. 

“He says yes. Eve, he says yes!” Flynn jumped in the air, unable to contain his excitement. 

Eve caught Flynn’s flailing hand and pulled him into her arms, a smile threatening to split her face. “Okay, Mr. Sword Whisperer. How?”

“I don’t know. But… Power. Focus. Effect.” Flynn’s heart started racing and he broke free of Eve’s hold, circling around Cal. “We didn’t have enough power! But Cal is one of the most powerful magical artifacts. The two of us, the only two people who know Moriarty, in this spot, the place of his ‘death’, that’s got to be the focus.”

“So how do we go about this?”

Flynn was stumped for a second and stopped pacing. “I don’t know. We just think of him. Focus on him coming back. Cal, will you help us get him back?”

This time, Cal leaned a bit closer, inviting Flynn’s hand. His wheezing sound definitely meant, _‘What do you think I’ve been trying to tell you all this time?’_

Flynn grinned and laid his hand on the pommel. He felt a trickle of magic flow through him. Or maybe it was just his knees wobbling from all the excitement. “Eve, you too, I think.”

Eve put her hand on top of Flynn’s. “Okay, now what?”

“Now we wish him back.” It sounded so simple, like a fairy-tale. Like magic. Flynn had to smile at his own daftness. “It’s magic. This is how magic works.”

Eve looked at Flynn, both her hands tensing on Flynn’s, then she closed her eyes. 

Flynn kept looking at her. She looked so vulnerable in that moment. Flynn would do anything to protect her from disappointment. Her trust was a precious and fragile thing, and he wasn’t going to let her down. But staring at her wouldn’t accomplish anything. He tried to drag his thoughts away, looking down at the spot where Moriarty had disappeared. 

Moriarty’s eyes had been so impossibly wide and green in that last moment imprinted onto Flynn’s memory. He’d tried to reach Flynn, they’d tried to hold onto each other. Flynn felt a stabbing pain in his heart as he relived the moment Moriarty dissolved. It was suddenly hard to breathe. He should have been able to catch him, but he’d failed. Guilt smothered Flynn like a blanket and his vision went dark for a moment. Tears rolled down Flynn’s cheeks. 

Eve put a finger under Flynn’s chin and raised his head to look at her. He blinked a few times, but she stayed all blurry.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t give up now. We can do it.” She put her lips to Flynn’s softly. Just a small, comforting kiss, but it helped so much. Flynn took a deep breath and hoped she was right. He’d let himself get sucked into his despair and lost sight of their goal.

This time blinking worked. “Yes, you’re right. I’ll focus better now.” He gave her a small kiss in return. 

“You started without me?” Moriarty’s fake-indignant voice pulled Eve and Flynn out of their kiss.

Flynn’s heart swelled at the sound. It had worked! He’d thought they’d failed again!

But here Moriarty was, towering over the roses, his face split into a grin.

Eve laughed and leapt the two steps towards Moriarty, and Flynn was pulled along. There was a brief moment of hesitation, but before he could make up his mind, Flynn was already being propelled into Moriarty’s open arms. 

Moriarty wobbled a little, but caught them both. “Ow, don’t break me.”

“I’m sure you can take it,” Eve shot back, but then added in a whisper, “We missed you.”

A quick spike of embarrassment shot through Flynn. He couldn’t say what he felt. Although maybe being part of a three-person hug already spoke for itself. Flynn belatedly realized that it might be a little weird to hug Moriarty in the first place. But it was too late to pull back now. Moriarty had already slung his arm around Flynn in return, and Flynn admitted it felt good. He liked to be part of this, whatever they were. 

Moriarty planted a small kiss on Eve’s cheek before he looked at Flynn. “You’ve been crying.” 

Okay, maybe he had been crying a little bit, too. But not because he missed Moriarty. Okay, well, not primarily. But looking into his eyes now, green and deep, the vice that had been constricting Flynn’s chest fell away. It must have shown on his face somehow, because Moriarty leaned in to kiss Flynn. Flynn turned to present his cheek, but Moriarty snaked his head around and pressed his lips to Flynn’s instead.


	13. Conscience is born of love

_‘Love is too young to know what conscience is,  
Yet who knows not conscience is born of love?’_

\--- 

Catching up Moriarty on what he had missed should have taken a lot less time than it had with Shakespeare. Maybe it would have, but Moriarty wanted to know everything, and then never stayed on topic. They ended up at the inn again, chatting about this and that. The innkeeper wasn’t happy to see Moriarty, at first, but she was happy to serve him when Flynn explained Moriarty’s part in vanquishing Prospero. They’d eventually ordered dinner, and they were still talking hours later. Not that it wasn’t interesting, but Flynn found the longer it went on, the less he could sit still.

He turned his fork in a circle. He was feeling fidgety. More than usual. He knew he was not the type to sit still at the best of times, but it was even harder today. The worst part was, he knew why, and that just made him wibble more.

Moriarty shot him slow, sidelong glances during their conversation, making a current run through Flynn’s body every time. Not a magic current — at least he didn’t think so. In any case, he had been half hard since Moriarty was back, and the longer he was sitting at the same table with Eve and Moriarty, the more jittery he got.

Eve wasn’t sitting next to him this time, but had chosen a place equidistant to Flynn and Moriarty. He missed her touch grounding him. It didn’t help that Moriarty kept touching Eve’s hand, as if by chance, at every opportunity. 

Flynn saw how Moriarty’s touches affected Eve. She was much better at controlling herself than Flynn was, but he noticed how she rolled her shoulders and shifted in her seat. She shot Flynn glances, too. Smiling ones that seemed to hint at secrets.

Flynn didn’t think he was jealous. He trusted her, like she trusted him. He still wished he had her next to him, firmly at his side. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel quite this untethered.

He almost wished they’d just get it over with, be done with all this… anticipation. But his brain refused to imagine what exactly they should get over with. Whenever he thought of where they might be heading, embarrassment flushed him, and his fingers started trembling. He hadn’t felt like this since he’d been a teenager. Well, okay, twenty. He’d thought he’d outgrown these emotional flights of fancy, but apparently not. 

He picked up his fork before it could fall off the table and counted the tines with every finger. Moriarty laughed at something Eve said, and Flynn lost his count. He put his fork down and sighed shakily.

The worst were the moments where he thought he was imagining all of it, or that he’d simply misinterpreted everything. Or those where he thought Moriarty was playing them both. Then Moriarty smiled at him again, open and real, something vulnerable in his eyes. He looked at Eve and she smiled, too, closing the circle. Flynn’s heart skipped a beat and his thoughts went back to square one. No, not imagining it after all.

Eve pressed her knee against Flynn’s under the table. It managed to both reassure Flynn and increase his heart rate at the same time. He’d been in this limbo for too long now. He couldn’t take it anymore. If he had to sit through more of this, he was going to have a heart attack. But he couldn’t just get up and leave, either. He sent Eve another pleading look.

Finally, Eve took pity on him. “Okay, let’s call it a night.”

Flynn pushed himself up, happy to be moving. He wasn’t tired in the least. It wasn’t time to sleep yet, anyway. His knees were suddenly wobbly, and he held on to the table, trying to steady his legs and his breathing.

Moriarty hesitated, but it took only a few looks to communicate that he was going with them. He blushed slightly, but got up, letting Eve and Flynn lead the way. Flynn felt that all the eyes in the room were on them, but maybe he was imagining that. The inn was filled with people talking and drinking and eating, but nobody was paying the three of them any mind as they filed out the back door.

They made their way to their room, keeping a decent distance. Flynn was sure his trembling limbs set the air between them to buzzing. Scenario after scenario flitted through his mind, and he stumbled into Eve. 

As usual, she was there to catch him. His wonderful Guardian. She whispered in his ear, “You okay?”

She meant, ‘okay with this’. He nodded. “Just nerves. You?”

She shrugged and smiled at him, a little shakily. “This is what we want, right?”

Flynn nodded again. “Yes. We do.”

He still had no idea what was going to happen, but having Eve at his side made it a little easier to breathe through the noise of his racing heart.

\--- 

The door fell shut behind them. They just stood there, looking at one another in the grey dusk light still illuminating the room. Moriarty had his hands clasped behind his back, the pinnacle of calm, which made Flynn feel like giggling again. Flynn danced a step backwards and Excalibur’s sheath rumpled along the wall. 

Oh, he’d forgotten about him. Flynn busied himself with untying the sword belt, and stepped around Moriarty to set Cal down on the floor, including sheath and belt. Leaving Cal covered just felt more appropriate.

Excalibur had been unusually quiet throughout the afternoon. Flynn had kept an eye on him for a while after they’d brought Moriarty back, worried that their spell had hurt him in some way. He had sounded a bit exhausted at first, but otherwise fine. Flynn guessed he’d fallen asleep sometime later. He carefully pushed the sheath close to the wall, glad his earlier clumsiness hadn’t woken Cal.

When Flynn straightened and turned, Moriarty was still standing there as before, maybe even more unreadable. Eve was now sitting on the edge of the bed, giving the impression she was in full control of the situation. Flynn wished he was half as confident as she was. Thinking about something else for a minute had helped, but his legs still felt unsteady. 

Eve put down her hands on the bed on either side of her in clear invitation. Flynn didn’t need to be told twice and skipped over to her left, taking her hand as he sat down next to her. 

Moriarty swallowed visibly, then took the place on her other side. He looked at Flynn across Eve. Sweat broke out on Flynn’s forehead. He almost asked ‘Is it hot in here?’ but he could stop himself just in time.

Eve leaned back, her hand slipping from Flynn’s. She had the unfortunate position in the middle from where she couldn’t keep both men in her sights at once. Leaning back, she looked extremely... ‘hot’ was the first word Flynn’s brain provided when her shirt slipped from her pants as she stretched.

It turned a little clumsy when her head touched the wall curtain and her cap dropped forward over her eyes. It went back to hot instantly when Moriarty took the cap off of her and she shook out her long hair.

Nobody had spoken a word since they’d come into their room. Now, the sound of Moriarty’s voice made Flynn jump. “Eve, may I kiss you?” 

Flynn had a distinct sense of déjà vu. But it was completely different, too. Eve didn’t check with Flynn this time, just nodded minutely. They knew what they were doing. Well, at least they had talked about this, or Flynn thought they had. He suddenly wasn’t sure anymore what they’d really agreed. Making a decision in theory was so much easier than going through with it.

Eve’s eyes stayed focused on Moriarty approaching her. 

But she was no more sure than Flynn, apparently. A constant string of “oh god oh god oh god” was flowing from her mouth. Moriarty was about to press his lips to hers, but he slowed his approach, probably influenced by her words and her wide eyes, until he stopped completely, hovering over her, not even an inch between them. Eve was panting now, and still mumbling “oh god” and Moriarty hadn’t even kissed her yet. 

Flynn could imagine what she felt. He could feel the echoes of his rapid heartbeat in his stomach. 

There was no way back if they did this now. 

With that thought, everything became clear to him once again. There was no way he was letting this chance go by. This was much too exciting and much too fascinating. He needed to stand with Eve on this. Flynn stretched out his hand, feeling around Eve’s side, groping for her hand. She reacted immediately, gripping him back. Her voice got stronger before “oh god” turned into “yes”. 

Moriarty finally closed the last bit of distance between them. Eve’s whole body relaxed under him, but she didn’t let go of Flynn’s hand. In fact, she was pulling him closer. Flynn leaned over, catching himself on his elbow next to Eve, his feet dangling off the bed. He was still wearing his shoes. 

Flynn tensed. Despite his logic telling him it was okay, he wasn’t sure he should be watching them kiss from this close. But he didn’t dare move away, either. He focused on toeing off his shoes instead. That didn’t take nearly long enough and they were still right there.

Flynn had seen them kiss before. Several times, in fact. But that visual was the only thing about this whole situation that was familiar. Everything else was new. 

Moriarty kept kissing Eve, and she was melting into it. The longer Flynn watched, the more it seemed like he was part of it, feeling his lips tingle, like someone was kissing him, too. He didn’t know whether it was the magic that did it, or just his proximity to the kiss.  
Moriarty was completely focused on Eve, and Eve on Moriarty. Flynn felt unobserved, and it made him bold. He lifted his free hand to Moriarty’s face. He had no clear plan, just touched it to Moriarty’s flushed cheek. It was hot and stubbly. Moriarty trembled under Flynn’s fingers. He let go of Eve to catch Flynn’s hand in his, but he didn’t stop kissing her. He just blindly moved their hands towards Flynn’s face, touching the back of his hand to Flynn’s nose, his cheek, his lips. 

This time, it was Flynn who trembled. He unlaced his fingers from Moriarty’s and bent his head to catch the fingertips on his lips. If they’d been tingling before, now they were humming. Flynn sucked on a fingertip. The way his stomach flipped at that made him forget all his earlier doubts. 

Just before his eyelids fluttered closed, Flynn saw Moriarty’s tongue dip into Eve’s mouth. The resulting spark traveled a good part further south than Flynn’s stomach. Eve moaned, and he could feel her twitching. This was partly his doing! It was incomprehensible. He’d never felt anything remotely like this before. He never wanted it to stop.

Of course, that was when Moriarty sat up. "I don't know how to proceed."

Flynn shook his head, trying to catch up. "What?”

Flynn sat up, too, trying to get to eye level with Moriarty. He almost managed. “You don't know how to have sex?" He’d intended it as a joke, because he was way out of his depth, himself. But Moriarty apparently took him seriously.

"I'll have you know, I have never had the need before." Moriarty was actually blushing. 

Flynn hadn’t expected that turn of events at all. He bit his tongue so he wouldn't laugh. Moriarty was a virgin, how quaint. He grinned at Eve, but her strict look wiped the grin off his face. Okay, no laughing at Moriarty. Come to think of it, he should probably have sympathy for old virgins, having been one himself.

"But now you want to?" Eve asked cautiously.

Moriarty hesitated. "I don't know. I think so." He looked at Flynn as he said that. If Flynn had still been smiling, now his smile would have faded for sure.

That hit pretty close to home. Flynn had been trying to avoid thinking about it all day. But now that Moriarty was looking at him, expecting an answer, he found himself finally going there. He leaned back, putting some distance between himself and Moriarty.

He knew he felt something for Moriarty. It was different from what he felt for Eve, almost the opposite, in fact. But there were the beginnings of trust. There was a lot to discover about Moriarty. There was fascination and sexual attraction. The thought of Moriarty kissing him excited Flynn, and their magical connection was something Flynn had never felt before. He wanted more of that.

"Well, I want to have sex." Eve said, blushing slightly, and looking between Flynn and Moriarty.

If Eve could admit it, so could Flynn. "Me, too!" He nodded back at her.

"Well, then. You are welcome to.” Moriarty made an inviting gesture and sat back, moving away from Eve. “I will watch." He leaned back nonchalantly, as if none of this was very interesting. As if it hadn’t been he who’d just admitted his ignorance.

Eve and Flynn looked at each other. Her eyes held a challenge. Flynn knew she wasn’t going to back down now, and that meant neither would he. 

Eve spoke first. "Are we going to give him a good show?" 

She tried to make it sound easy, but he heard the slight tremor in her voice, and her eyes were a bit wild. She was ready to do this, she was going to have sex with him with Moriarty watching. Flynn's mouth had suddenly turned too dry to answer. He had to clear his throat. "Okay."

He checked Eve's face again. She nodded, a small smile blooming on her lips and crinkling her eyes. She was the best, and Moriarty deserved to see how one made love to a woman as wonderful as Eve. Now just... how to begin? Flynn was intensely aware that he was being watched. Moriarty was settled at the head of the bed, his expression hard to read, eyes locked on Eve's face. 

The first thing Eve did was take off her shoes. Flynn watched, expecting her to keep undressing. But then she started for the drawstrings on Flynn's shirt. Okay, so he was going to have to undress first. That was probably fair. Flynn helped her strip him out of his shirt. It felt weird to be half-naked in front of Moriarty, but Eve let her hands trail down his chest and smiled reassuringly. He smiled back. They could do this.

His hands shook slightly when he lifted them to Eve's shirt, palming her breasts. The tight linen undershirt was pressing them to her chest. It felt strange, and he made note of their flattened shape under his hands. They were still very sexy, and apparently felt sexy to Eve, too - her eyelids drooped when he found her nipples.

He loved how they hardened under his fingers until they were straining against the fabric. Flynn rubbed his thumbs over them and Eve's head dropped back. Oh, she was so beautiful. The way she bit her lip and suppressed a moan made it even sexier. She was a lot more controlled than usual, but Flynn couldn’t blame her for that. He didn’t want to think too closely about how he himself looked right now. Concentrating on Eve was all he could do. He shifted a little closer, angling his knee out for balance, making sure his thumbs were always circling her nipples. He kept nudging one then the other. He listened to Eve's breathing speed up, mesmerized as always by how much she liked that, and thrilled by how her control was melting.

He had to take his hands out of the way when Eve picked up the hem of her shirt and lifted it over her head. Flynn took care of the undershirt for her, happy to see her breasts slip out and return to their beautiful shape. He was still busy throwing the shirt onto the pile, trying to ignore the voice in the back of his head chanting _'he's watching, he's watching'_ , when Eve pulled him close for a kiss.

She was energetic, pushing her tongue into Flynn's mouth the moment his lips parted. Flynn felt a little smug about that. Until Eve's hands stopped stroking up and down his sides and started pulling on the fastenings of his pants. Oh god, she was going to take off his pants, and Moriarty was watching. Flynn's heart stuttered. He was gripping onto Eve's shoulders maybe a bit more strongly than he should. 

She was going to undress him any moment now. He didn't know it was possible to be this excited without being in mortal danger.

Eve didn't pull down his pants, though. She simply snaked her hand inside and into his boxers, and let her long fingers glide down his length. She wrapped them around him, pressing the head against her palm. He’d been hard for so long already, he almost came right then and there, his whole body twitching. The kiss broke and a surprised gasp escaped his mouth. "Oh god, Eve."

Flynn didn't care so much that Moriarty was watching anymore, as long as she kept touching him like that. The tension he’d felt all day was turning into a simmer right under his skin. It was freeing. There was no way to go but forward. 

He wanted out of these uncomfortable pants right now, so he lifted himself up a little and started pulling them down to his knees. Eve smiled at him and played with her fingers near the base. It sent sparks through him and made it really hard to concentrate on getting his pants off. Stretching his legs made him lose his balance, too. He flailed a bit, but he managed to push them off without too much time lost. Even though he tried not to look, when he shuffled around to get up on his knees, he couldn't help his gaze passing over Moriarty.

Moriarty's face was bright red, his mouth hanging open, his lungs heaving under his fitted black jacket. Even fully dressed, he looked debauched, out of control. Flynn twitched in Eve’s grip. He had to look again to check if Moriarty was touching himself. He wasn't. His hands were balled to fists and gripping the sheets, his arms straight, cords of muscle standing out on his neck above the white ruff of his collar. 

His eyes flicked to Flynn's and held. Flynn could feel the air crackle between them. It hit him right in the stomach. 

Eve chose that moment to scratch his balls with her blunt fingernails and he bucked into her hand, helplessly caught between the two of them. His eyes fell closed, and he made an embarrassing sound. He kept his eyes screwed shut, fearing his heart wouldn't survive him opening them again, and just gave himself over to Eve.

His body was already humming everywhere, and he realized he wouldn't last much longer. A hysterical chuckle escaped him at that. He wasn't giving Moriarty a very good example of how to best love Eve, was he. Eve was giving the way better example of how to take Flynn apart completely.

He heard Moriarty say "I beg you," in a strangled voice.

Eve's hand stilled as she asked, "what?"

Flynn wanted to say the same but it came out sounding more like "nnggh?"

"I can't," Moriarty whispered. Flynn was in no state of mind to guess what Moriarty couldn't do, but the distraction made the pleasure fizzle out and he whined in frustration, trying to move into Eve’s hand.

She took it away instead, and asked, "Take a break?" 

No no no, no break. 

He opened his eyes after all when Eve touched her hand lightly to his belly, apparently expecting a response. 

Flynn let out his breath and slumped down. He had been so close. He let himself drop backwards onto the bed in defeat.

Eve gave his thigh a last little pat, which his dick embarrassingly acknowledged with a twitch, before she turned her attention on Moriarty.

"Are you okay, James?"

He didn't answer. 

Flynn had the suspicion that Moriarty was even more embarrassed than Flynn was, despite Flynn being the one lying supine and naked with his dick out. That thought made Flynn feel a lot better. Not good, still frustrated, but good enough to risk a look at how bad Moriarty was faring in comparison.

Which was pretty bad. He was hunched over and staring up at Eve through hooded eyes, his mouth still open, his breaths still coming too fast. He looked like he was hanging onto control by a thread. But Flynn didn't think Moriarty was going to get aggressive once he lost it, more like he was going to burst into tears.

Moriarty still didn’t answer.

In a soothing voice that was completely unlike Eve, she said, "If something’s bothering you, you’ve got to let us know.” Her voice got even softer. “Talk to me, James."

Apparently, that got through to him, and he did, the words coming fast, like his breath.

"I feel like I am going to burst at any second. It's tearing at me and... watching you touch each other has made it stronger. Something is happening to my body. I don't know if I can do anything to stay abreast of it. It’s similar to when Flynn…,” his eyes sought out Flynn’s. They were deep and green, and Flynn knew there were churning magic oceans behind them. Flynn licked his lips and Moriarty leaned forward slightly.

"Is it a bad feeling?" Eve’s voice made them both blink, and the magic connection that Flynn had expected didn’t form. 

Moriarty looked away, his eyebrows drawing together.

"Does it hurt?" Eve clarified.

Moriarty unclenched one of his fists from the sheets and placed it over his heart. "Here, yes. It feels like my heart is going to explode. And... " He dropped his eyes involuntarily and there was no mistaking his meaning.

"Your dick," Flynn put in helpfully, lacing his hands behind his head and enjoying how Moriarty seemed to get even redder at that, and how Eve tried not to smile. "Dicks tend to like that. Have you really never... ?" It boggled the mind. 

Moriarty looked at Flynn and huffed. “I’ve had more important things to do over the last three months. Of course, your and your ‘dick’ have been best friends for the last twenty years.”

He put a weird emphasis on the word 'dick', irritatingly condescending, as if he'd never said it before. Maybe he hadn't. That made it sound even more dirty. Flynn swallowed. 

Unfortunately, the topic of discussion, on full display, betrayed Flynn’s thoughts immediately. 

Moriarty looked straight at it and sat up, his shoulders relaxing a little. He suddenly seemed a lot taller. When Moriarty licked his lips absently, Flynn was hard again within seconds. Flynn sat up to salvage at least a little of his dignity, catching Moriarty's gaze and holding it.

Moriarty had sounded dismissive, but the look on his face belied his words. Now his hand twitched a little in Flynn’s direction. That wasn’t really what Flynn had meant. But there was no way he could deny his excitement, and he currently lacked the presence of mind to pass it off as a joke. 

Flynn’s eyes fixed on the hand. Moriarty apparently took that as encouragement and leaned forward. Flynn’s heart was trying to outrun itself. 

Moriarty moved closer. Ever the gentleman, he asked, “May I?”

Flynn’s neck was completely stiff and he could barely nod at Moriarty, wide-eyed. His body had answered for him already, and his mouth was too dry to form words.

He had to chance a look at Eve again at last. He expected her to be jealous, or at least show her disapproval at the change of plan, but all he saw in her eyes was… desire? He might be projecting that, though. So he checked for other signs. Yes, her pupils were wide, she was sweating, and her pulse fluttered at the hollow of her throat. Probably not projecting, then. 

They looked at each other for a long moment, before Eve whispered, “You’re mine.” It sounded like a statement, but her eyes made it a question. He didn’t know what that meant right now, but it was the truth, he knew that. He nodded at her. 

Eve nodded back. A small smile flitted over her face, before she looked over at Moriarty and nodded at him, too. 

He had her support. Processing that exceeded his brain capacity. His body was on fire. Eve scooted closer to Flynn and grabbed his hand. 

Flynn’s eyes locked on Moriarty. He gripped Eve’s hand harder before he let himself succumb to Moriarty’s presence again. She was here with him, and Moriarty was about to touch his dick. Moriarty’s fingers touched Flynn’s thigh gently, testing, as he looked into Flynn’s eyes. The anticipation was so overpowering by now, Flynn couldn’t think. Moriarty’s fingertips were cool and dry. They were entirely too gentle as they moved up, up, closer. The ruff on his shirt sleeve tickled Flynn. Moriarty was obviously fascinated, and Flynn found himself watching his face. Moriarty’s eyes were narrowed, focused, his lower lip compressed in concentration, as he leaned over Flynn.

The shock when he skimmed over Flynn’s dick for the first time was almost too much for Flynn. He didn’t care. If anyone stopped again now, Flynn was going to scream. His ears started ringing but he forced his eyes to stay open while Moriarty was exploring his dick in maddening detail. His fingers were long, his hands big and strong, bigger than Flynn’s, but the skin was soft and still cool. He moved his fingers here and there, cataloguing Flynn’s every reaction. Flynn himself couldn’t catalogue anything anymore. His body felt like it was covered in cotton wool, tiny sensations pulsing through him, flowing into each other. That sense of distance was probably the only thing holding him at bay, but even so, the light touches were slowly driving him mad. 

When Moriarty put his other hand down on Flynn’s hipbone and held him still, Flynn’s awareness slammed back into his body all at once. He realized he’d been rolling his hips the whole time, but now he couldn’t anymore. Moriarty held him in place. There was no outlet but one. 

When Moriarty’s fingers slipped around his length, caressing the underside of the head, just once, Flynn came without warning. Lightning struck all his limbs, and they flailed against Eve on his one side and Moriarty on his other.

Moriarty pulled back with a shocked sound, both hands leaving Flynn’s body. The loss of contact made Flynn whine and squirm, but Moriarty didn’t come back. Flynn blinked his eyes open but only saw him for a second, sitting back and looking at his own hands in wonder. Then Eve moved in. She turned Flynn’s face towards her and kissed him greedily. 

Every part of his body was still singing, Flynn couldn’t kiss back with any skill. He just opened his mouth wide, hers for the taking. She dived in deep, but soon moved on to kiss him all over his face, his nose, his eyes. She cradled his cheek in her hand, making everything better. He was happy and safe.

After a while, he was back. Finally, he was able to properly kiss Eve again. Nothing was more important than showing her how much he loved her. He realized that her left breast was pressed against his chest, and he took the opportunity to cradle the other one in his hand. She moved into it, obviously enjoying their kiss as much as Flynn was. 

When Eve leaned back a minute later, he smiled at her thankfully. Her cheeks were flushed, but she looked in control of the situation, the way she sat back on her heels. She didn’t seem to mind her half naked state, her breasts pushed out confidently. Flynn almost couldn’t take his eyes off of her, she was so beautiful.

Moriarty had apparently been watching them intently, but Flynn didn’t feel mortified or even guilty. He felt thankful towards Moriarty, too. The wonders of orgasm. Everyone should have orgasms.

Flynn watched languidly as Moriarty reached out a hand towards him again and drew a finger through the puddle on Flynn’s stomach. An echo of arousal traveled through Flynn as he had a sudden vision of Moriarty putting his finger into his mouth and licking it off. But Moriarty didn’t; he just rubbed it between his fingers and then smelled it, his nose wrinkling slightly.

Flynn had to chuckle. Eve put in, smiling, “If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Actually, in this case,” Flynn interrupted, “theoretical knowledge is not going to get you very far. Trust me. You have to feel it.”


	14. Lascivious grace, kill me

_‘Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,  
Kill me with spites; yet we must not be foes’_

\--- 

Flynn thought he should reciprocate, but there were two other people in this bed. He wasn’t used to that. Moriarty was the one whose touches Flynn still felt on his skin, but Eve was the one he knew better. 

So Flynn looked at Eve, “Your turn?”

Eve hesitated, her shoulders sagging minutely. “No, I’m fine.”

Flynn narrowed his eyes, but didn’t argue. She probably had a reason to decline, even though he couldn’t currently imagine what it was. He himself felt great right now, mellow and generous. 

So Flynn then turned to Moriarty, intending to ask him the same. But looking at Moriarty, straight-backed and full of tension, different words altogether left his mouth. “Don’t you think you should take off some of your clothes? Eve’s half naked, I’m completely naked, and you’re still wearing your boots and jacket.”

Moriarty hesitated.

Eve put in, “Only if you want to. Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

Moriarty huffed, but sat on the edge of the bed and got up. 

Flynn made a mental note that Eve’s way of phrasing it seemed to have been successful. Flynn was lucky to have such an excellent strategist at his side. He wanted to let her know, but Eve didn’t pay him any mind. She was focused on Moriarty taking off his boots.

Moriarty carefully placed them on the floor, then he folded his pants and laid them on top. When he stepped out of his white knee-length drawers, Flynn caught a glimpse of his ass. He couldn’t deny that the way the white shirt flowed over his hips was somehow enticing. That shirt went onto the pile, too, and Flynn was left staring at a very naked Moriarty. 

His erection was impressive, thick and red, the head glistening in the light, not quite as curved as Flynn’s, but about as long. It was hard to tell exactly from Flynn’s position. He pushed himself up to get a better look. He thought he should probably be more embarrassed about this than he was. But he’d had his share of embarrassment today. Maybe it was just temporarily depleted.

Moriarty sat back down on the bed, turning to face Eve and spreading his legs a little to give his dick some room. Now that he was committed, he seemed more confident again. His face and throat were still bright red, but his movements were sure. Moriarty spread his arms, “Now you can look.”

Eve cleared her throat. Flynn could tell it was hard for her to look at Moriarty’s face and no longer at his dick. Flynn was struggling, too.

“What is your next suggestion?” Moriarty’s gaze was unmistakably directed at Flynn. 

“How about…,” Flynn swallowed, his throat dry, “how about you touch it?”

Moriarty tilted his head, considering, but Flynn could see curiosity gain the upper hand. Moriarty lightly touched his fingers to the head and let them glide down along the side. Just the fingertips at first, trailing them this way and that. Flynn’s eyes followed every movement. It really looked like Moriarty was doing this for the first time. 

Moriarty finally wrapped his fingers around the shaft. Flynn heard Eve’s breath catch. He became aware that they were both slightly leaning forward, and he blushed and tried to sit straight again.

Moriarty was apparently happy to slowly explore, but his breathing got more and more shallow. It was surprisingly mesmerizing. Flynn had never actually seen a man stroke his own dick before, not to mention sitting right next to it. He was unprepared for how immediately it affected him.

Suddenly, Moriarty moved his hand away, flexing his fingers. “I think that’s enough.” Moriarty’s erection bobbed up and down in obvious disagreement.

“You don’t like it?” Flynn asked, perplexed. His voice came out softer and more husky than he’d expected.

Moriarty’s eyes locked onto Flynn. The desire in them ignited a heat wave at Flynn’s throat that rolled down his arms and burned a path straight through his chest. Oh. Not that, then. More likely the opposite. 

Eve scooted forward and helpfully arranged a cushion behind Moriarty. “How about you lean back like this?”

It was only a little bit uncomfortable to watch Moriarty rearrange his position. Once he was done, his breathing was considerably more stable than before. He looked down at his unflagging erection, as if annoyed with its continued presence.

Ah. Flynn knew a distraction maneuver when he saw one. Moriarty was having second thoughts. “Don’t stop now, you’re only getting to the good part.”

Eve nodded. “It’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”

"You don't know anything of the sort," Moriarty replied, his voice laced with anger. "You don't know what will happen. I might burst into pieces or dissolve into smoke! Nobody knows."

Eve swayed a little, as if she'd wanted to lean in to comfort Moriarty but had decided against it at the last second. "We won't let that happen. Right, Flynn?"

"Of course not. And if you do turn into smoke - we brought you back before, remember? We’ll get you back again.”

Eve took Flynn's hand and then leaned forward after all to put her other hand on Moriarty's thigh. "Yes. We want you here, James."

Flynn shrugged. He couldn’t disagree, and Moriarty knew it.

Eve was kneeling at an angle to Moriarty’s legs, so his dick was in easy reach of her left hand. “How about I touch it?” 

Her inflection sounded especially careful. Flynn knew that tone of voice. She used it when she was trying to sound calm and collected when she was anything but.

When Eve slowly moved her hand closer to Moriarty’s dick, images of Eve touching Flynn bubbled up in Flynn’s mind. It was a strange kind of identification with Moriarty, overlaid with a touch of jealousy. Flynn reminded himself that Eve was doing this with his own permission. He told himself that she would want to touch him as much as she wanted to touch Moriarty. 

He focused on what Eve was going to do next. He knew what was coming and Moriarty didn’t. He was going to get to watch Moriarty fall apart. That was just as new for him as it was for Moriarty. 

Flynn curled his fingers into a fist at his thigh so he wouldn’t touch himself. He forced himself to watch, just watch.

When Eve’s fingers brushed through Moriarty’s dark locks of pubic hair and touched the base, Moriarty let out a suppressed whine. A tremor went through Moriarty’s legs and Flynn balled his fist harder. A bead of precome leaked from the slit, making Flynn’s own dick respond. 

Flynn licked his lips as Eve’s fingers slowly approached it. When she smeared the fluid around the head, Moriarty’s head rocked back and his eyes fluttered closed. His mouth fell open in a moan that clearly still sounded afraid, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

Ten Guardians couldn’t have stopped Flynn from leaning in and touching him. 

When his hand landed on Moriarty’s collarbone, the magic flared up suddenly between them. Flynn lost all sense of direction under the onslaught. He was swept this way and that, and Moriarty with him. He could tell that Moriarty was still afraid, but he’d given himself over to Eve and Flynn. Trust. It zinged through their connection, lifting them to the top of the frothing waves and suffusing the world with a shining pink glow. 

The whole world was filled with fluid magic, an endless ocean of it under a bright and cloudless sky. This magic sea was so beautiful. Flynn had completely forgotten about the magic! It should have been there earlier. Was it possible that Moriarty had been blocking it all this time? He had obviously been afraid of what was happening to him. Fear seemed to be able to do that…

Fear. Flynn realized that he wasn’t afraid at all. He was getting slightly woozy from the waves tossing them around. It didn’t fit with the completely steady image of Moriarty’s chest heaving right in front of him. It was disorienting. But it wasn’t frightening. 

Flynn had an advantage this time: he had survived it once before. He gulped in air and dived right into the wave again, tasting Moriarty’s shoulder, the sweat in the hollow of his throat, under his jaw. Moriarty shifted, panting louder. Stubble rasped across Flynn’s lip before their mouths found each other. 

He had a shocking flashback to the last time, when Moriarty had vanished mid-kiss. 

But no, this time he’d stay. Flynn wasn’t letting go. Eve wasn’t letting go. Moriarty was tangible and real, still kissing Flynn. Hard stubble burning Flynn’s skin. His warm hand clawing at Flynn’s side.

Holding onto each other stabilized the world, and Flynn felt a lot better. He was still floating, but the sea was now calmer, the waves more regular. They made Flynn’s stomach tingle. There was something building, bubbling up from beneath the surface. Frissons of tactile sensation flashed across Flynn’s skin. Oh, wow. It must be Moriarty’s orgasm. Flynn could feel Eve’s fingers on his dick, although he knew they weren’t touching him. They couldn’t be. He was still holding her hand. 

He could feel the tension building and closing in. It was blooming, billowing, spreading, lifting him along with Moriarty. Flynn dug his fingers into Moriarty’s shoulder, trying to hold on against the current. The last thing he wanted to do was lose the magic connection now. There was only ever one first time. Flynn had no idea if it was his own dick rubbing up against something, or Moriarty’s. It didn’t matter. There was wonderful friction. Moriarty was panting, less controlled, and less afraid. Eve’s openmouthed breaths came shorter and shorter.

He felt Moriarty come. Flynn was catapulted out of the magic sea by an underwater explosion, and he was coming, too. He didn’t know whether it was all in his head or real or magically both, and he didn’t care.

When the world stopped rocking, Flynn opened his eyes again. He’d slid down Moriarty’s chest and drooled on him a little. But if Moriarty felt as good as Flynn did right now, he surely wouldn’t mind. Flynn didn’t bother checking if he was still magically connected to Moriarty or not. His body was plastered to Moriarty’s side. They were both slick with sweat and… sticky. Yes, he’d come again. 

Eve had let go of his hand and was now stroking down his back, his ass, the back of his leg. Her other hand was doing the same to Moriarty’s chest down to his thigh. He watched her hand come by a few times, blinking lazily. The hairy chest directly in front of his eyes looked a lot sticky, too. Flynn smiled. They’d done it. More than done it. Magically done it. 

And Moriarty was still here. Heaving shaky breaths with his eyes still closed, but here. 

Flynn planted an ‘I told you so’ kiss on Moriarty’s nipple.

“Oh,” Moriarty breathed and shuddered.

Flynn thought that summed it up pretty well. He snuggled into the surprisingly comfortable chest again and closed his eyes.


	15. How far I toil, still farther off from thee

_‘How far I toil, still farther off from thee.’_

\--- 

Flynn would have happily spent the whole morning in bed. It was their first morning, after all, if you didn’t count the time Moriarty fell asleep in their bed, which Flynn definitely didn’t. 

But Eve was up and out of the room faster than he could blink, so Moriarty and Flynn had no choice but to follow her to the breakfast table.

No, not ‘Moriarty’. he was supposed to call him ‘James’ now. Flynn’s brain still hadn’t fully caught on to that. James had ribbed him for it twice already today. _‘The smartest man of his century, but can’t remember the most common name,’_ blah blah. 

Flynn liked their banter, to his surprise. Companionably joking the time away, he’d barely noticed the sun reaching its zenith. 

Now they were helping the theatre troupe rearrange the stage for another play. After a night off, the actors were obviously looking forward to presenting another play. Flynn had never heard the title, but the backdrop paintings looked bucolic. 

Whatever it was, for once Flynn hoped they wouldn’t want him to play a part. It couldn’t be that good if Flynn didn’t know about it. Plus, he’d actually have to learn lines. The weather was much too nice to do any work.

It was weird, Flynn had never been one to lie out in the sun when there was scholarly work to be done. He suddenly missed the Library with a fierce pang. At least he had Excalibur back. Cal had been quietly hanging at Flynn’s hip all day, and Flynn gave him a friendly pat. He let his brain delve a little more into the options for getting back to the Library again, while the rest of him was enjoying the unusually warm weather.

After lunch — breakfast for the actors — the troupe had immediately nabbed Moriarty to help them fasten the canvas backdrops on the high wooden frames. As the tallest, he still attracted curious looks, but he didn’t object to his height being put to good use. He noticeably preened when he caught Flynn or Eve appreciatively watching him stretch. He seemed even taller, then. 

Flynn wondered idly whether Moriarty was genuinely happy to help, or if he was wrapping them all around his finger. Learning to trust him would take some getting used to, but the moments of doubt were already getting fewer. Flynn reminded himself that Moriarty had saved his life. And he was supposed to call him James.

Flynn and Eve occasionally lugged props back and forth, but whenever he could get away with it, Flynn just sat in the grass and watched the others work. He wasn’t the only one. At any given time, the majority of them were just lazing around. Flynn had a few things in common with theatre people, after all.

James shot him sexy glances now and then. Or maybe they were angry glances because Flynn wasn’t working as much as James? Flynn returned the glances either way, smirking on purpose, enjoying the way his heart rate picked up. Then he stretched out on the grass again and let the sun warm his face. Life was good.

Whenever Eve came by, she kicked him playfully, making him laugh. But she also sat down next to him, nudging his shoulder, generally keeping physical contact with him. They’d picked up the actors’ routine of cursing each other out for being lazy. Eve had appropriated some mean antique swear words. Flynn knew he was probably the laziest of the three of them, but that didn’t stop him from retaliating.

When James and his two fellow stage technicians left to get another prop, Eve pulled Flynn up and led him toward the beautiful garden of Wilton House.

Flynn wondered for a minute whether Moriarty — James — was going to miss them, but they hadn’t been helping for the last half hour anyway. And it was nice to have Eve to himself, away from the constant company of the other actors. He still had to check himself not to hug or kiss her in public. 

He felt very much like hugging her today. It was a challenge not to. Spring was turning into summer. Red woodbine and verdant ivy were winding over a low wall between luscious clusters of snapdragons. The day was the warmest they’d had yet, not a cloud in the sky. Even though Flynn had already spent all day in the sun, he still enjoyed its warmth on his arms where he’d rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Flynn was content to amble down the garden path next to Eve. The last time he was here, he’d been nervously looking for her. Now, he felt all the better for having her at his side. Yes, this was how the gardens were supposed to be enjoyed. 

They crossed the narrow bridge across the small stream that meandered through the gardens. It waved around cute little hillocks covered in pink tea rose bushes and blue hortensias. Flynn was just admiring the reflections of the sunlight on the water, when Eve took his hand in hers. That in itself wouldn’t make people suspicious yet, but it definitely surprised Flynn. He looked around if anything was going on, but nobody else was in sight. He checked Eve’s face to see what she was doing, but she was speeding up, pulling him along. 

“What’s up?” Flynn asked as he matched her pace. 

She didn’t answer, just smiled at him wickedly, before she turned off the path next to a bench and around some wildly sprouting bushes. She stopped on a small patch of grass covered with lots of tiny white flowers and spun him towards her. Flynn noted that there were a lot of tall bushes around them now and no clear line of sight from the path. Oh, so that’s what was up. 

Eve was already on him by then, her hand in his hair at the nape of his neck, her leg between his, kissing him greedily. He was used to her confidence, and her assertiveness when it came to... well, initiating sex. But there was tension in her embrace that he wasn’t used to, a certain urgency to her movements. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it overwhelmed him. 

She needed him, and who was he to deny her. Especially, it shot through his mind, since he’d had one of the fastest orgasms of his life yesterday. No, two. The fastest and the most surreal. And then he’d promptly fallen asleep. 

And Eve had held back. He wasn’t quite sure why. An idea had come to him during the night, though. She may not have been ready to let go in front of James. She might have been willing to risk it, with Flynn inside her, protecting her, but that’s not how it had gone... 

“Flynn!” Eve admonished him, “Here! Now!”

“Yes, I’m here,” he reassured her immediately, vowing to focus and stay in the present now. On a whim, he added, “I’m yours.”

It had the desired effect. Eve slung her leg around his, grinding up against him, and her tongue was in his mouth again. He knew she was going to show him what she wanted him to do, so he was paying attention, ready to follow her lead. 

She turned around in his embrace and looked over her shoulder in clear invitation. “Tell me.”

“I’m yours. I love you.” He pressed her against him, kissing her neck, keeping her close, whispering his love into her ear. 

She melted against him when he pressed her closer, rubbing his hands across her flattened breasts in an effort to feel them. She dropped her pants and pulled him forward to the ground with her. 

They were going to have grass stains on their pants. Flynn debated taking off his vest to kneel on, but Eve immediately complained. He settled for untying his sword belt, flinging Cal a few feet away, and pushing his pants down below his knees. 

He found the ground was much less hard than he’d thought. Blades of grass tickled his legs as he gripped Eve’s ass cheeks with both hands. They were so beautiful. She was so beautiful. He was speechless every time she did this — offered herself up for him, seemingly without shame. His heart skipped a beat. She might look shameless and confident and in control, but she wasn’t, was she? Her words were pure vulnerability, and he would show her that he was worth it.

She tilted her ass up higher, and he let his hand slide down between her legs. He was not surprised to find that she was very wet. He couldn’t help spreading the wetness around, making Eve gasp and shudder. So beautiful. But she didn’t give him much time to play and explore, thrusting back against him, her intent clear. 

All he wanted was to give her what she needed. This time he’d be there for her. This time, nobody would stop them.

There was no resistance when he entered her. Her body took him in all the way, warm and welcoming. It took away his breath. Eve tried to muffle a moan in her sleeve, her muscles flexing around him. He let his hands wander up and down her back, pushing up her shirts. The muscles in her back flexed as she stretched out before him. 

“Flynn!” She started moving against him, tilting her hips forward and back. 

“Yes. Yours.” He grabbed onto her waist more tightly so he wouldn’t lose her. Letting Eve set the pace, he just focused on keeping his movements steady and strong. Telling her again and again, he thrust into her and she pushed back with force, echoing him with muffled moans. 

The slide of him inside her was sublime. He knew he would have come already if he hadn’t just had sex last night. Happy that this way he could last long enough for her, he lost himself in the rhythm. Her exhales on every stroke and his own ragged whispers were loud in his ears, the sound of their bodies moving, skin on skin, doubly exciting in the quiet air around them. 

The wind in his hair, the sun on his back, attuned to Eve’s needs, he felt powerful and wild. Eve’s arms were shifting on the grass with the force of their movement, and she’d lost her cap at some point. Her hair was spilling out around her head, waving back and forth, shining golden in the sunlight, contrasting against the fine blades of grass. 

He wanted to make it good for her, reaching around her with one hand. It changed their angle and Flynn had to slow down, but Eve seemed to approve. Her moans were getting higher and her legs shifted a little wider apart. 

Flynn found a new rhythm, alternating soft touches with strong thrusts. He vaguely wondered whether they were still allowed to do this, just the two of them. He hoped James was far enough away for this not to bleed through to him. He hoped James was going to be okay with this, if it did. He hoped he would be able to last. It got harder to stay quiet and in control as Eve started moving more erratically, but he tried his best. 

He’d been right, she came before he did, but barely. 

He leaned forward across her back, trying not to crush her. Resting his head on her spine, he took his time catching his breath. Her skin was sun-warmed, moist with sweat between her shoulder blades. He slowly kissed away the beads of moisture. He wasn’t sure whether the buzzing in his ears was his blood or insects zipping between the blooming flowers. 

When their breathing had calmed down a bit, Eve shifted under him, pushing him off. They flopped down onto the grass next to each other. Deep green leaves were rustling in the slight breeze around them, flickering in front of a bright and cloudless sky. Flynn was sweaty and the last thing he wanted to do was move to cover himself up again. 

Reluctantly, he went to collect Cal, who’d luckily stayed put in his sheath. He was quiet even now and didn’t make any attempts to fly away as Flynn fastened the belt again. 

Flynn watched how Eve laced up her pants, too, and fitted her hair under her cap. He beckoned her to lie down next to him again. Luckily, she followed his suggestion. Eve was blinking up at the sky, and he was looking at her beautiful flushed face. He let his hand slowly glide over her stomach, admiring the shade of her cheeks against the marbled roses, the low-hanging ones dark pink in the shade, and the ones in the sun pale and rosy, almost translucent. 

The rose scent was overpowering, mixing with the warm smell of fresh earth. Flynn inhaled deeply. There was something to be said about the 17th century. Nature certainly was most beautiful here, as long as one stayed far enough from house and stable, and people. Which reminded him that they’d left Moriarty behind to run off and have sex without him. Which reminded him that Eve had seemed tense and somehow uneasy before. 

He looked at her intently again. Yes, there was still a slight furrow on her brow and some tension around her eyes, closed against the sun. But she seemed happier than before. She’d laced her fingers with his and was absently stroking his hand with her thumb, a smile on her face. 

Flynn thought back over the morning, recalling her attempts at connecting with him. He hadn’t really been paying attention, too lazy to do anything but stare at Moriarty and enjoy the sun. In hindsight, it was clear that she had wanted more from him.

Well, she’d managed to connect with him now. He winced. She deserved better. She deserved a partner who paid attention. In fact, he should use this chance to tell her that. He was really bad at guessing what she wanted, he knew that. But now that she was stretched out loose and warm next to him, maybe he’d get her to spell out her feelings, so he could understand better.

Flynn asked, “What’s on your mind?”

“You’re attentive today,” Eve smiled and squinted at him.

“I try.” He was starting to find it easier the better he knew her. Still not easy, but easier. “I’m sorry I wasn’t paying enough attention before. Are you feeling better now?”

“Yeah.” She gave him a smile and pressed his hand to her belly, but it didn’t feel quite right.

“Yeah, but…?”

Eve’s smile grew. He’d been right, there was more. But she didn’t say anything else.

“Is it because of James?” Flynn was proud that he’d managed to use his first name, if only just. He had no idea what the problem could be, he was just going by the fact that Eve had purposely run off with Flynn alone.

“Maybe. A little. I don’t know.” Her fingers tensed on his again. “It’s all new.”

“Do you think we made a mistake last night?” Of course, the afternoon had been hard for Flynn himself, but the night had ultimately been exhilarating. Giving that up after all they’d done to get James back in the first place just seemed wasteful.

“No, I’m glad he’s back, and I’m glad to have him with us.” She gestured between herself and Flynn, moving Flynn’s hand along with hers.

Flynn ticked off possibilities in his head. “Is it because we’re stuck here? I know this isn’t as easy for you as it is for me. You have to pretend to be a man, and acting is not your dream job...”

“You’ve thought about this.” She blinked rapidly.

“I care about you.”

“I know. Or…,” she burrowed her nose into his shoulder, “I should know.” What she didn’t say was that it was his own fault that she now expected less of him. He’d hurt her by running away.

Flynn let his fingers ghost up over her body until he cupped her cheek. “I’m here, and I’m staying.” He punctuated it with a small kiss, as earnest as he could make it.

Eve nodded and took a deep breath. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she relaxed against him. She rolled to face him and breathed another sigh. This felt better, but didn’t quite sound like he’d guessed correctly yet. He decided to wait. He didn’t want to lead her further and further away from what she’d intended to say. 

It wasn’t hard to be patient for once. Not with her lying in the sun with him. He stroked her neck and shoulder, rubbing his thumb on her skin absently. He liked being with her like this. He held himself back from kissing her again, it was important not to distract her now.

Her eyes flicked away from his when she finally spoke. “I thought it would be easier.” 

Flynn nodded, trying to be encouraging. He had no idea what she was talking about.

“I couldn’t do it. I wanted to.” She shook her head and looked at him pleadingly.

He had no idea how other men did it. He was lost. “Eve, what are you talking about?”

She laughed at him, then. “Sex, Flynn, I’m talking about sex.”

He laughed along with her. That was much better. He kissed her, just because they were laughing again, probably on a way to understanding each other again.

He was reminded of Cicely Island, of his ideal dream world: the greatest puzzle, for him alone to solve. She was his greatest puzzle and he loved trying to solve it. He already was so close to his ideal, and he hadn’t even known. He’d been an idiot to think he would want to live without her.

Back to solving the puzzle. Sex. Sex. She had just had sex with him, so she must be talking about James. “Okay, you want to have sex with him.” 

How easy it was to say that by now, looking deep into her eyes and not feeling the tiniest bit jealous anymore. Hm. “You’re not asking because of me, are you? Because I’m all for it. I watched you kiss, and it was great.” Her eyebrows said it all. “No, it has nothing to do with me.”

“No, it’s me.” She smiled crookedly at him. “Well, maybe it is a little bit about you. I wish I could trust him like you do. You two seemed so… in synch. There is something between you that I’m not part of.”

“The magic… yes, it is amazing. There’s a whole sea of it. I’ve never felt anything like it.” He was about to launch into a more enthusiastic description when he remembered that she was already envious of it. Just… why would she be? “But you have felt the magic before. I know he drew strength from you, too.”

She frowned at him. “You’re right. But I didn’t get anything amazing or sea-like from it. It was just a faint tingling, like static. It wasn’t there yesterday.”

“He can block it. I can block it, too. I’m still not entirely sure I can control it, we both did it unconsciously before. But if you don’t trust him, chances are you are blocking it without knowing what you’re doing. It’s fascinating. I have no idea what it is. I guess it’s just what being with a fictional is like.” Flynn clamped his mouth shut. He was getting overly enthusiastic again.

“Are you absolutely sure we’re doing the right thing?” The pleading look was back in her eyes.

“Absolutely? No. If there’s anything I’ve learned in the last ten years with the Library, it’s that nothing in life is safe. There’s always a risk. But you know that.” 

She did know that, and she’d never once shied away from it. She’d risked her life for Flynn, and the LITs, and random strangers, too, without thinking twice. But here she was, worrying about being hurt. It was another facet of hers that he hadn’t expected. The greatest puzzle, indeed.

He hugged her closer and whispered into her ear. “If you’re asking how high the risk is that we’re going to get our hearts broken… I am confident it’s manageable. Even if we find that we made a mistake, I am not giving you up no matter what. I’m always going to be yours first.” Flynn closed his eyes and listened to his heart. “But I trust him. He saved my life. You saved my life a dozen times more, of course, so that’s not to say I trust him as much as I trust you!”

She laughed again. 

Flynn was bungling it, as usual.

“It’s okay, Flynn. For him, once is a lot.” She pulled him close and Flynn let out his breath in relief. “To be honest, I never expected it. I never trusted all his seductive words. But he has proven himself now...” She trailed off, turning onto her back. “And still…”

“Eve. It’s okay.” He turned her face gently back towards him. “A piece of good advice from a person I very much respect: ‘Don’t do anything you don’t want to do.’”

This time she kissed him. 

He kissed her back before finishing his advice for her. “You don’t have to rush anything. If you find you can never trust him enough, then that’s how it is. There is no plan for this. I don’t know much about relationships, but I know this: they are not missions. You don’t have to plan them. You do what feels right, when it feels right. We have all the time in the world.”

She kissed him one last time before getting up. “Thank you, Flynn. That was really good advice. I’m feeling better now.” 

She held out a hand to him and pulled him to his feet. They straightened out their clothes and slowly made their way back towards Wilton House. 

“Speaking of time… when exactly are we going home? That is a mission, and it needs a plan. I tried to ask you about it this morning, but I don’t think you even listened.”

“You did?” Flynn grimaced at her, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It was so nice in the sun, and I didn’t feel like thinking.”

Eve guffawed. “You’re the Librarian! All you do is think! You know what I think? All that sex has addled your brain. You’re not getting any more until you’ve come up with a solid plan!”

Flynn knew she was just joking, but he suspected she had a point. Of course he wasn’t about to admit it. “I have lots of plans!”

Eve just laughed at that. At least she still had a sense of humor about it. 

But Eve couldn’t be convinced by assurances. He knew she needed arguments. She still trusted him, but if he hesitated any longer, she’d never believe anything he said. He just started talking. “Our best bet is finding the Library here in the 17th century and using its resources. We can’t use the same time machine we used to get here, or we risk breaking it before we use it.” 

Eve’s pout clearly expressed what she thought of time travel.

Flynn talked on before she could interrupt him. “But the Library has lots of resources. I know there are other time machines that have been at the Library longer than 500 years. We could use one of them. But even if we can’t, that’s not tragic, either. We may not even need a time machine.”

Eve’s frown got deeper, prompting him to explain.

“We’ve already done the hard part. We’ve traveled to the past. The other way is always easier.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because time is on our side now. It moves in the direction we want to go. Anyone can time travel the long way around. The only thing we have to do is make sure we get preserved.”

“Like mummies?”

“Ha, ha, I’d like to keep my brain, please. But, yes, something like that.”

“Okay, then. Let’s go to the Library.”


	16. Do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed time

_‘And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed time_  
_To the wide world and all her fading sweets_  
_But I forbid thee one most heinous crime:_  
_O carve not with thy hours my love’s fair brow’_

\--- 

“I know exactly what we need to do. The problem is, we don’t have the needed resources for it.” Flynn looked across the table at James and Eve for ideas.

They didn’t look like they were sitting on any great revelations, though. They were exhausted from hiking across the countryside all afternoon. Even James, who could replenish his energy simply by looking at Flynn or Eve, looked tired. He was squinting skeptically into the dregs of his stew. Eve was nursing her mug of ale.

Flynn hated to repeat himself, but maybe going over it again would jog something in his brain. “All the magical things we have are a magic detector, a magic sword, and you, James. None of them are capable of putting us in stasis so we can survive four centuries. I don’t know of any artifacts that we could get our hands on. Without the Library, this is harder than I expected.”

Eve gave him a wan smile. “I know, Flynn. We can’t reach the Library this way. We’ve tried. This plan has proven impossible.”

Flynn had to agree. His first plan had been a bust. It had consisted of finding a portal to the Library. The entrances to the Library gave off a faint trace of magic that Flynn knew well. This morning, they had set out to find one. It was a combination of finding the right ley lines and then simply knowing where to look.

They’d checked two different ley line convergences, but found no doors. He knew they were there, but he couldn’t find them. Even the magic detector hadn’t been able to locate one. Their magic was probably too faint to register, or too well hidden, even from magic-detecting devices. 

He’d asked Cal to help, then. Cal seemed to be sensing the doors and had led them to several places. The problem was, Flynn suspected, that the Library didn’t recognize him as a Librarian. Thus the doors never revealed themselves to him. It was most annoying. After hours of hiking across the countryside, they’d given up in frustration.

They could try and go to a physical location of the Library instead, but it was 1611, and Flynn didn’t know where it was anchored. Very likely not yet in New York. Probably not in Britain, either. They’d have to check Camelot, at least, but only because they were so close to it already, not because he had any credible reason to believe it was there. 

Flynn had no idea where the Library was. He knew it had been in Alexandria, Athens, Rome, but that had been over a millennium ago. Maybe there were still remnants or anchors of it in one of these places. But it would take them months to reach the Mediterranean, and it wasn’t a safe journey. They would risk it, of course, if they had no other options. But without a better idea of where to look, the chances of success were ridiculously low.

The other idea Flynn was toying with was bringing the Library to them. Maybe they could devise something to let them make contact with the current Librarian, engineer a magical emergency or pretend to have an important magical artifact. How that was supposed to work without any magical items was another unsolved question. They had Excalibur, of course. Flynn hated to risk exposing him for that, but he’d do it if he had to. Assuming Cal would even cooperate. Flynn didn’t want to have to trick him into it. 

Even if they managed to lure the current Librarian to them, they still had to convince him to help them. Using a ruse was not a good way to inspire his trust.

Flynn stared at Eve’s fingers turning the mug of ale in a circle on the table, around and around.

“Are you living creatures or made of stone?” Shakespeare exclaimed suddenly, his booming voice making Flynn jump. Flynn hadn’t seen him come in, but there he was, standing right next to Flynn.

Shakespeare’s good mood was completely wasted on Flynn and the others. Nobody acknowledged Shakespeare’s entrance with more than a look and a small smile. Shakespeare leaned on the table and looked around at the three of them. “You look like someone sucked the life out of you!”

Shakespeare still didn’t get an answer, only a wall of frustrated silence. He didn’t let that scare him away. Instead, he squeezed himself onto the bench next to Flynn. 

He called for an ale and started talking again. “You weren’t at the stage, so I came looking for you. I’d expected you to come hear the announcement of parts.”

Oh, yes, the play for the King. Flynn perked up a little at that. They’d been so busy, he’d completely forgotten about the audition. He hadn’t thought of anything else today than how to get back home to the future. “Did I get a part?”

“I regret to add to your obvious misery, but no.” Shakespeare smiled apologetically. “You must understand: this is a unique opportunity for great actors to come to the attention of the King.” He spread his hands, including Eve and James in his apology, “You are not of this time. You are consumed with adventures and saving the world, and soon you will be gone. You see, I must reserve this chance for real actors.”

“We understand,” Eve nodded, but Flynn guessed it was more for Shakespeare’s sake than out of real interest.

“Who knows if we’ll be gone at all,” Flynn sighed. 

“I don’t follow,” Shakespeare said, his brows furrowing, “Every day I wake up, I expect you to be gone. Why are you still here, then?”

“We currently lack the means to travel through time.”

“Oh no! You are stranded here, centuries away from home? What tragedy! I assure you, I would help you if I could! But I am but a lowly playwright. I know nothing of travels through time, nor of magic spells. All I can do is invent stories.”

“You can write us a happy ending,” Eve joked.

It hit Flynn like lightning. He looked up to find James staring back at him, his mouth hanging open. “Oh my god, Eve, that’s brilliant!”

“Indeed!” James nodded, excitement in his voice. “Master Shakespeare, may we kindly ask for a story from your magic quill?”

\---

Shakespeare had requested time to think about the story he was going to write. He’d insisted it needed to be a good story, or it wouldn’t work. Flynn suspected Shakespeare had simply wanted to escape their attempts at helping him.

They’d all been convinced quickly that the idea was realistic. Soon, they’d all clamored for Shakespeare’s attention, making suggestions for the story. It hadn’t taken too long to iron out the basics.

They all agreed that it was too risky to actually time travel, since Shakespeare, who needed to be the focus of this particular spell, did not know how to pinpoint an exact location in the future. Eventually, they’d decided on turning them all into a statue, since that was something Shakespeare could envision very well.

Everything needed to be encoded into the story: the way they’d be stored, making sure the Librarian would accept them as a valuable artifact and guard their secret, the timing of their resurrection.

The longer they’d discussed it, the less they’d been able to agree on the details. James had talked over Flynn a lot, Flynn had talked back, Eve had tried to mediate, and maybe it had gotten a bit loud. 

In the end, Shakespeare had thrown up his arms in annoyance and left the table. Eve and James had fixed Flynn with glowering looks, which he thought was a bit much. It wasn’t like it was purely his fault, they were just as guilty. 

In retrospect, after he’d calmed down a little, Flynn was glad they had time to prepare until the next day. When Flynn thought about being turned to stone, a tremor went through his limbs. He was not looking forward to that. Similar fears seemed to be written in Eve’s face. She was pale and her hand felt clammy in his. She moved closer to Flynn at the dinner table, or maybe he scooted closer to her.

James seemed to be handling everything a lot better than Flynn. He was the least rattled of all of them. He picked up on Flynn and Eve’s tension, though. That was apparent in the way he kept touching them and joking a lot. But it didn’t seem to otherwise affect him. Flynn got the impression that James was only trying to reassure them but didn’t need reassurance himself. That didn’t make Flynn feel any better.

They’d known, theoretically, that they’d have to time travel again. But now that it was going to happen, Flynn could think of a thousand reasons their plan might fail. So much time in which things could go wrong. So many steps of the plan that needed to go right. Flynn wanted to run right back to Shakespeare and remind him to put more safeguards into the story, to provide for every unforeseen circumstance, not to let anything happen to them.

But Eve had reminded him of the remaining tasks that needed to be tackled. All good, logical requirements.

Firstly, they would need costumes. Eve didn’t want to spend the next 400 years as a boy. She had gone to look through the props for a suitable dress the troupe could spare.

Secondly, they had agreed that Flynn should write down instructions for the current Librarian. Shakespeare would only reference them from his magic story, but the details were up to Flynn. The Librarian had to make sure Flynn himself wouldn’t learn of his own plan ahead of time. Time travel was tricky like that. 

\---

It had taken Flynn a good hour to pen the letter, but now he was finally done. He kept turning it in his hands, hoping it was clear enough. Neither he nor Eve would be there to fix things if anything went wrong. Flynn trusted himself, and he trusted Eve. Trusting anyone else with his life made Flynn very uncomfortable. Shakespeare hadn’t really turned out to be the reliable kind. Genius: yes. Dependable: not so much. The only reason Flynn thought this might work was that Shakespeare knew he owed them his life.

James was trustworthy, of course. Flynn didn’t know him all that well yet, but he was absolutely convinced that James would never let Flynn or Eve die. He adored Eve and wanted to be with them, that much was obvious. Flynn knew they’d be in good hands with James watching over them. But of course the plan was to take him with them, not let him live out four centuries, waiting for Flynn and Eve’s time to come. Who knew what James would be like after that? Flynn winced at the painful thought. He doubted anyone could stay sane for 400 years. He knew a few vampires who could attest to that. No, they couldn’t. All the vampires Flynn had known were dead. Would be dead. Were going to be dead.

In any case, they’d always planned to take James with them. Flynn had briefly entertained the thought of letting James watch over their delivery to the Library, and only then storing himself. But that wouldn’t work, either. James might not have enough power on his own. Flynn wasn’t going to lose him so soon after he found him. He’d make sure James was safe before they went on their long trip.

That only left Shakespeare. Flynn sighed. Whatever way he looked at it, it made him nervous. Not for the first time, he thought about how much easier his life had been when there hadn’t been anyone to worry about. He’d always been the one in the most danger, while everyone else was safe. But he didn’t want to go back to those times, either. 

When had his life become so complicated? 

Flynn was already starting to annoy himself with his fretting. Maybe he could coax Cal into action for a change. The sword had been awfully quiet all day again, and he found himself missing Cal’s company. Times with Cal had always been good. 

Flynn padded to their room and sank down on the bed. He laid Cal across his knees and pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. Cal wasn’t moving on his own at all anymore. If it hadn’t been for a slight tremor going through him now and then, Flynn could have mistaken him for an ordinary sword. Flynn drew his handkerchief up and down the blade. It had always been their version of grooming. Cal used to love it. He’d even sometimes maneuvered the cloth into Flynn’s hand when he wanted to be groomed. It was quite a feat for a sword to pick up objects. They’d gone through some frayed handkerchiefs that way. Flynn smiled at the memory.

After a while, Cal started vibrating. This was a sure sign that Cal was happy about the attention. It felt like stroking a purring cat in his lap, and it was as calming as he remembered. 

Flynn looked up when James quietly entered the room a little later. He said, “She has finished trying on dresses. Now she is saying her farewells to the actors.”

Flynn only nodded and scooted over to make room on the bed for James, careful not to jostle Cal while he continued petting him. James just sat down next to him. He didn’t try to talk to Flynn or otherwise make Flynn uncomfortable. Flynn was thankful for that.

Cal’s purrs got more and more quiet over time. It was hard to tell, but Flynn thought Cal had fallen asleep. He slid him back into his sheath and gently settled him on the floor. 

Flynn sighed. 

He looked at the door. If he went out and talked to Shakespeare again, he might annoy him, risking their whole future. He really shouldn’t. 

He looked over at the bed. James was lying on his back, his hands folded behind his head. He seemed to notice Flynn looking at him, opened his eyes and patted the bed next to him. Flynn’s feet started moving towards him before he’d made a conscious decision to do so.

He dropped down onto the bed, setting it wobbling, and stretched out next to James. Neither of them spoke for a time.

“Is there anything I can do?” James asked at last. 

“I don’t know.” A tense laugh broke from Flynn’s chest. “Don’t die again?”

Flynn had expected another joke like James had made them all afternoon. But this time James stayed serious. “Everything will work as planned.” He shifted on the bed until he was looking at Flynn. “Librarian.”

Hearing James use Eve’s endearment made Flynn blush. It was weird, like James suspected that Flynn was more likely to listen to Eve than to him. What was weirder was that it worked. Flynn found himself believing him. He nodded. They would be fine. 

And even if they wouldn’t, Flynn couldn’t change it. It was out of his hands. Flynn sighed. Again.

James didn’t say anything more, just pulled Flynn into his arms. It felt strange for a minute, but Flynn was too exhausted to resist. Flynn hadn’t seen James this caring before. No, that wasn’t right. James cared for Eve exactly like this. Flynn just hadn’t expected to be on the receiving end of it. But once he allowed himself to relax, it wasn’t that strange anymore. 

James’s embrace was strong and real. He was here, and Flynn would make sure to remember his presence. For four hundred years and more, if necessary. He’d remember, and they’d be back in the future, and then they’d all be back together. 

Flynn wished Eve was there in this bed with them. Flynn pressed his aching heart closer to James’s side, as if the pressure could take the pain away.

He took a deep breath. James’s clothes didn’t smell bad as Flynn’s and Eve’s had at first. They just smelled of James. Flynn had come to love that spicy smell. He moved around a bit, pushing the edge of James’s shirt to the side with his nose. The skin smelled better without the shirt in the way. Flynn didn’t mind the hairs on James’s chest tickling his nose.

James seemed to like it as well. He shifted slightly, exhaling with a soft sigh. His arms wrapped around Flynn a little more tightly, his hands coming to rest on the small of Flynn’s back. Then James was lying completely still again, reserved as always. But it was surprisingly nice to be held like that. 

As usual, Flynn couldn’t lie still, his legs shifting restlessly against James’s. James kept Flynn surrounded in his embrace, his movements minimal and barely compensating for the mattress giving beneath them.

Flynn nuzzled closer, the tip of his nose dragging across the stubble on James’s throat. It was softer than he’d expected, and he did it again. Moving in small circles made the stubble tickle his cheeks and his lips. Yes, this was really nice. Flynn tilted his head back, and it was no surprise at all that James bent down to kiss him softly. It was completely natural, the only possible action. 

James’s fingers curled into the back of Flynn’s shirt, making Flynn squirm against him. He pressed his lips against James’s again. It didn’t take Flynn long to figure out how to purse them just right so no stubble would scratch him. This felt extremely nice. 

There was something magic about it, too, just like he’d come to expect. But it wasn’t a surging sea this time, it was only a low hum, like a faint red glow just outside Flynn’s vision. Flynn enjoyed its soothing warmth.

Until Flynn’s thigh ventured higher than before and encountered something hard. James groaned into Flynn’s mouth. 

Like a switch was flipped in Flynn’s head, all the calm turned into want. Flynn wanted to crawl up James’s body, his legs trying to find purchase, hips twitching forward. He pressed into James to make it clear that he was just as hard, and they were groaning together. Writhing in James’s grip, Flynn was pulled closer, the friction and pressure making him gasp. He made sure to keep his leg up, keeping it moving against James in return.

“I leave you alone for two minutes!”

A shock went through James’s whole body at the reproving sound of Eve’s voice. 

They both pulled back, and James shifted up the bed into a sitting position. Flynn felt the magic oscillate, splintering into tiny shards, before he was cut off from James. Flynn propped himself up on his elbow to see Eve standing in the open door. Their eyes met and words pushed their way unbidden through the grin that was splitting Flynn’s heated cheeks: “You left us alone for an hour. At least.”

Eve rolled her eyes at Flynn. His apprehension helped to get his brain working again, but he couldn’t tell if she was angry or not.  
Eve shoved the door closed behind her without looking. The bundle of clothes she was holding landed in a corner. She took a step forward, but stopped again in the middle of the room. A slight hesitation passed over her features before she put on a wide smile again. If Flynn hadn’t been expecting it, he would have missed it. She was more insecure than angry, then. He held out his hand towards her and blinked his eyes encouragingly. 

She slowly stepped closer. “Did I miss anything important?” Her voice had an edge of anxious curiosity now.

Flynn wanted to reassure her, but he wasn’t sure where to start. She’d already felt excluded, and finding him in bed with James surely wasn’t helping. James’s eyes were flitting between Eve and him in embarrassed panic, until they snagged questioningly on Flynn.

Flynn drew a deep breath. He needed to try explaining, at least. “James tried to convince me that this plan isn’t all kinds of risky and that we’ll all see each other again in the future safe and sound.” Just thinking about it made his stomach hurt, his doubts and concerns threatening to rise again.

“Ah.” Eve nodded as she sat down at the edge of the bed. “Mission planning regrets. I know all about those.”

Flynn shrugged his shoulder and gave her a flickering smile. “It’s good that you’re here now.”

James extended his hand towards her. It was just a hesitant gesture, but Eve scooted closer and settled herself on James’s side. She looked across his chest, mirroring Flynn’s position. James wrapped his arms around both of their shoulders. 

“Look at it this way.” Eve’s voice was low and intimate. “Even if it doesn’t work, we’ll still be together.”

That was it, wasn’t it? Eve always understood these things better than he did. Flynn smiled at her, blinking to keep in the tears that suddenly welled up.

“It will work.” James’s quiet voice was full of confidence, thrumming through Flynn’s head. Flynn really wanted to believe him. 

With that, James opened up to them again, the magic flow carrying James’s confidence into the hollow of Flynn’s chest. Just like that, Flynn knew what to do. 

He exhaled slowly and reached across James for Eve’s hand. She laced her fingers with his and they settled their hands on James’s belly. Flynn imagined the magic flowing between all three of them, consciously opening up his mind towards Eve. Maybe he could make it flow towards her, too, and make her see it. He looked at her, thinking of how much he loved her. Her blue eyes were searching his face, and he tried to picture himself as an open book, wide open, hers for the taking.

The magic lapped at him from the inside. He could feel it flow through him into James, and he thought he could feel the trickle from James into Eve. It was just a little, but maybe she would understand and let in more. He had no idea if he could even make magic flow between the two of them at all, or if it only worked between a human and a fictional, but he had to try. He needed her to be part of it.

He was starting to doubt himself, wondering how long he’d be able to hold himself open like that, when the magic suddenly spilled into Eve after all.

She gasped, her eyes going wide as the magic rushed into her.

Flynn felt her surprise loud and clear, and almost clamped down on the unexpected change in the flow. He just managed to control his breathing, hoping the magic would even out by itself. Eve’s breath came in short bursts, and her eyes were locked on Flynn’s. Astonishment was written all over her face and echoed back through their connection. It was different than when it had been just James and him. They were forming a circle now, and the flow was more intense.

“Wow,” was all Eve said.

They didn’t need any more words. The magic connected them now. Flynn could feel his apprehension mirrored in Eve, and comfort radiating out from James. Maybe because he knew Eve better, he could feel her emotions more clearly. The idea that she could feel his didn’t frighten him, either. This was how it was supposed to be.

Flynn closed his eyes, listening to James’s heartbeat. Eve’s breath was still a little shaky at first but it soon returned to normal. This was more than nice. It was perfect. Flynn snaked one arm around James’s back, burrowing closer, and gripped Eve’s hand harder with the other. 

They stayed like that for a long time.

Flynn’s thoughts wandered, floating with the magic current, but Eve’s strong grip and the steady heartbeat under his ear kept him anchored. Logically, their situation hadn’t changed, but being connected with them made everything easier to bear. 

James spoke up. “Tell me what you will show me first when we are back in the future.”

Eve snorted and bit her lip, her amusement rippling through their bond.

“Hey, that was a serious question,” Flynn boxed in her direction, shaking the hand he was still holding. Flynn wasn’t in the mood for lewd jokes. “He’s going to get a serious answer.”

Flynn thought about the Library and the things he himself found most impressive. The first thing that came to mind was the Large Collections Annex, of course. He still heard Judson’s warning voice in his head every time he wandered into it. He started describing it, relaxing into the comforting memories.

They talked until long into the night, when they were finally tired enough to sleep.

\---

They got up early the next day. Their last day. After breakfast, they packed up all their things and donned their costumes. Eve hadn’t only brought a dress for herself, but two matching costumes for the men. Flynn and Eve kept busy checking their preparations one final time. James was around, but he stayed quiet and let them work. Last night had helped a bit, but Flynn still felt like jumping out of his skin. At least it would be over soon, one way or another.

Finally, Shakespeare deigned to show up with his writing desk and implements. He set up in front of a low dais they had prepared as a base for the statue.

Flynn’s heartbeat jumped up into his throat. Luckily, Shakespeare seemed to be listening intently when Flynn and Eve reminded him of all his responsibilities. Whether Flynn trusted him or not, it just had to be enough. 

Shakespeare took ages to get ready. Flynn couldn’t bear it any longer, he had to get some distance. He couldn’t really run in these puffy pants, but walking briskly helped somewhat. Flynn strode off into the rose garden, counting his steps along the rows. He’d liked the roses, before. But now their smell seemed cloying. Flynn hoped he’d soon be far away from them. He didn’t feel nearly calm enough when Eve and James came to collect him some time later.

They took their places up on the dais and assumed their agreed postures. Taking each other by the hands, they formed a circle, looking outward and up. Flynn’s hands were sweating, and Eve was crushing his fingers. James stood solid as a rock next to Flynn, and the magic connection between their palms was faint but palpable. Only his cold hands gave a hint that James might not be quite as calm as he seemed. Flynn tried to shore up some last-minute confidence that everything would go well, and gave James’s hand a light squeeze. They were together, all of them. They had done their best.

Shakespeare wished them good luck, giving them enough time to return the wish before bending down to put his magic pen to the parchment.

Then the magic trickled through Flynn. First slowly, like ice water lapping around his feet, then faster, coating his shins, knees, thighs. Freezing cold wrapped his body from the outside and burned through his veins from the inside. Their hands tightened, unconsciously strengthening the connection between the three of them. There was a crackling sound the moment the magic of the story met the magic of their circle. The static charge made the hairs on Flynn’s arms stand on end before the cold surged higher and he couldn’t feel them anymore. 

There was a moment where Flynn thought he was going to fall. His feet were already frozen to the dais, his hands inseparable from James and Eve, while his upper body still felt comparatively normal, and he was unable to balance himself out. But then the cold swept up through his chest. The need to move stopped, but his lungs were trying to breathe and couldn’t. His eyes were glazing over, his ears popped, and his brain was about to panic. 

_Magic, it’s just magic! Magic can be trusted!_

The panic passed and turned into an eerie numbness. All input from Flynn’s body had ceased - his limbs, his senses, all gone. _Turned to stone._

Flynn’s brain felt strangely tingly, but his thoughts still went on as if nothing had changed. It was slightly scary that he couldn’t see or hear anything. He tried to tell himself that that was to be expected. He was surprised that he was still thinking. He wondered how long it would take before his thoughts were frozen, too.

There was a sensation of vertigo, but it passed. Flynn kept expecting to fall asleep, or stop thinking, but it didn’t happen. He wondered if everything had worked out, how the others were faring, if he’d ever come back to life.

Then he did just that. 

The world rushed back at him in a single instant, sight and sound exploding into his mind. It was nothing like the slow freezing sensation from before. It seemed to Flynn like mere seconds had passed since he’d seen Shakespeare start writing his story. He realized that his thought processes must have been slowed down almost to a standstill. Almost, but not quite. Bringing them back to normal speed was overwhelming, and he felt like everything was happening at once.

Flynn forced his eyes wide open. He was no longer outside in the sun. It was a lot darker than before, and he could barely make out anything, but… yes! Right in front of him, there were the astonished faces of the LITs and Jenkins. 

They were home! He felt James and Eve next to him on either side. They were gripping onto each other’s hands, still finding their balance, but they were all here. Their magic connection had held, he could feel it again. He knew without looking that they were both fine.

It had worked! They were in a dimly lit room that Flynn didn’t recognize, but it definitely looked like the Library. Cassandra was laughing, Jake was frowning, Jenkins was wearing his usual enigmatic smile, and even Ezekiel was there, hiding in the shadow behind the others.

Flynn couldn’t remember ever having felt this relieved in his entire life. He’d been turned to stone and now he was alive and well again. Flynn touched his arms, his face, his chest, to check if everything was okay. Everything seemed to be working as expected and at normal speed. Excalibur vibrated softly. He was definitely alive, too. 

Eve was laughing giddily. She and Flynn hopped off the dais to join the LITs, but instead of welcoming them, they all took a step backwards. Flynn stopped short, surprised. The LITs were all looking at a spot behind him, the happy expressions on their faces closing off.

Oh. They had seen James. 

He’d been standing in the shadow behind Flynn and Eve with his back to them. Flynn looked back, following their gaze. James had turned to face them, but otherwise hadn’t moved. He stood tall, waiting, his hands hanging non-threateningly at his sides. He still looked imposing, especially since he was still standing on the dais, looking down on everyone else. His face was unreadable in the dim light. 

Flynn tried to judge James’s mood, and caught a faint trickle of anxiety through their bond. He felt a rush of affection for James, smiling at him encouragingly. Eve seemed to have the same idea, because they both reached out their hands at the same time, inviting James to join them. He hesitated a second, then he slowly stepped off the dais. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, obviously expecting more negative reactions.

Now the three of them were facing the LITs and Jenkins, and Flynn realized he hadn’t really thought this far before. He hadn’t dared cross that chasm of time. But now that they’d gotten there, the possibilities in Flynn’s mind expanded again. He hadn’t thought about what it meant to bring James into the Library yet, and now he’d have to make the LITs understand. He rubbed his hand across his face, trying to find the right words. “Yeah, well… James is with us now.”

The LITs all started talking over each other, then, protesting in rising voices, until Jenkins shushed them all. “Can he be trusted?”

Flynn gripped Eve’s hand closer, and her beaming smile was the best thing in the world.

“Yes,” Eve said, just as Flynn said, “He saved my life.”

Flynn saw the doubt in their eyes, and James’s forbidding posture, and he knew it would take a while to convince them. But they’d surely come around once they got to know him.

For now, all that mattered was that they were home. They’d actually managed to make their way back to their time and to the Library. For now that was enough. Everything else would sort itself out, Flynn was sure of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still amazed that I wrote such a long story and managed to post it before the season 3 premiere.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> On to season 3!


End file.
